


Put Up Your Honeydukes

by katamanda, sailtheplains



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Hetalia: Axis Powers, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Asthma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Time, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Original Character(s), Parent Death, Pneumonia, Vampires, Werewolves, combat nerd, diptheria, its dangerous outside, nerd, scarlet fever, wand-swallower
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-03 21:00:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 65,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1756911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katamanda/pseuds/katamanda, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailtheplains/pseuds/sailtheplains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers on a strange journey through Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. From scrawny shrimp to bucking bronco, magic and science are one and the same--especially when Tony Stark is involved. (Starts general, Chapter four cues the M rating jump)</p><p> </p><p>[NOT set during the HP books--but afterwards. So teachers are primarily from different fandoms.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Fine Line

He was so excited, he couldn't breath. No, literally, he couldn't breath. Not until one of the prefects made him sit down. He was so skinny, scrawny--even for an eleven-year-old. Steve could never have imagined that he'd get to go to someplace like this. His father had been a wizard. His mother, a Muggle. She rarely spoke of him--just that one day he left and never returned.

But she was open about his magic and about His World. When his letter arrived by owl, Steve didn't believe it. But his mother gazed at the letter, breathing in the scent of the enchanted paper like it contained the essence of her long-gone husband. "I want you to go, Steve."

He hesitated at her expression. "....Mom?"

Her smile was watery. "I'm going to take the money I set aside for a new sewing machine. With that, we'll get you to Hogwarts--"

"No, Mom--"

"Listen to me, Steven. I can't give you anything. Nothing. Except this. I want you to go. You'll learn so much. I'll have to make you a uniform...and...I don't know how to get to Diagon Alley but I'll go through your grandparent's things--I believe we still have your grandmother's wand here. Your father kept most of their things. We'll see what books we can get for you."

"You don't--I can use a library or something," he promised her. "Don't spend the money."

"The money is for the train ticket, my love. I need you to be strong. All right. It's going to be scary sometimes. But if you get sick--they'll be able to help you more than I can."

 

 

And so, a month later, the scrawny little half-American, half-British Steve Grant Rogers stood on the platform at the train station. She fretted, mussing his hair, worried for him, clearly. "Be careful and please try not to fight with bullies." The last time...that horrid little neighbor boy had nearly killed him....here, the kids would have hexes and spells...

She put a hand over her mouth as he hesitated and then got on the train. He stared out the window at her. And they pulled away.

 

That was not far from his mind---but he was so stunned at the sight before him that he could not help it. Floating candles and enchanted boats, stone walkways and sloping towers. He coughed hard into his sleeve, wide blue eyes startling when the kid behind him gave him a push to urge him forward. He tripped, hit the pier. Some of the boys laughed. Steve brushed it off. He was used to this. He was used to worse, actually. He hadn't really thought the kids would be any different---just the environment. And as they entered the beautiful old castle with the night sky ceiling and candles everywhere...even with him coughing during the Headmaster's opening words--this place might be really great.

 

 

 

When they called his name, he approached the chair slowly, warily. This was...some kind of test, he supposed? He'd never seen a talking hat before and had just sat in stunned silence while it sorted his fellow new students into their 'houses'. These were something like sectors, he thought, like a battalion with four companies or a wing with four squadrons. But this hat proposed that each was tailored for four different types of students. Slytherins were cunning and ambitious. Gryffindors were brave and bold. Ravenclaws were clever and insightful. Hufflepuffs were loyal to the death. It seemed like there would be a lot of crossover among these houses...but apparently the hat did not account for that. 

The teacher holding the hat had a million-watt smile. He winked at Steve. "It's all right. Hop on up, chief. I'm Professor Jones." 

He had an accent more like Steve's--a blend of British and American. It made Steve smile a little and he got up onto the chair. The hat covered his eyes on his little head.

 _Oh,_ said a strange little voice in his ear. _You are new--but I remember your blood. Your father went here, yes? You've a fairly keen mind--and brave. You would make a stout Gryffindor. But...your bravery is not your greatest strength, is it?_

Steve flinched a little. _I...I'm not a coward..._ he thought desperately.

_Oh yes, I know. You're no coward. But loyalty is more important to you than anything else. You value loyalty because no one has ever been loyal to you. A pity we don't have combined houses, you walk the fine line between a Hufflepuff and a Gryffindor. A Huffle-roar._

Steve's narrow little shoulders hunched.

_Don't worry. I can see your fear of failure. And the desire to do great things is like a fire in your heart. I think I know where you belong, Rogers._

The cry, "Hufflepuff!" rang out in the hall and the hat came off his eyes.

Professor Jones looked at him. "All right then, Rogers?"

Steve swallowed, head swimming in adrenaline and feeling faint.

"Rogers?" Professor Jones asked again, starting to frown. "Hey, you all right, chief?"

Steve nodded and got up. A few laughs as he tripped again and when he made it to the Hufflepuff table--some of them gave him gentle, pitying smiles. The rest looked away. Steve sat down at the end of the bench by himself and closed his eyes. He put his head down to shut out all the noise and clapping and calls from the hat--to calm his breathing again.

Preceding Steve Rogers by about ten minutes Barnes, James Buchanan, had found himself swaggering over to the Slytherin table (with all the swagger an eleven year old could muster, that is). He'd sat down and made himself comfortable on the end of the table reserved for the new recruits to watch the rest of the sorting.

There'd been Odinson, Loki, and Romanov, Natasha among many others who'd come that way after him. Never had he been more grateful to be early in the alphabet, sorta. He saw the little guy when he sat down and blinked because he was really little, like a stiff breeze was going to knock him over. He rolled his eyes at the smattering of laughter when Rogers, Steve tripped--couldn't kids find something better to do than laugh at scrawny little shrimps? Weren't they at the greatest wizarding school in Great Britain? Shouldn't they be better at that? He scoffed.

At the Gryffindor table, second year Thor had gaped when his younger brother hadn't come to join him. He didn't understand, surely Loki had more valor than anything else! But then...Loki had always been a little different--not bad, certainly. Just...more like their mother--less open, more cunning.

Then came Stark, Anthony. The boy was dressed smartly and he peered around--seeming unusually aware of himself. "How does this hat work?"

Professor Jones blinked at him. "Huh?"

"How does it work," the boy repeated.

Professor Jones raised an eyebrow. "Uh. Well. Why don't you ask?" He flopped the hat on Stark's head.

And the hat sat on his head for almost a full minute. (He was incredibly smart. Perhaps Ravenclaw--but he could be astounding in Slytherin.)

"I don't need a House to tell me what I'll be good at, Hat! I'll be great--and I don't need a certain House to do it!" The boy snapped aloud.

Jones blinked behind his glasses, looking over his shoulder at the other teachers.

"RAVENCLAW." The hat bellowed.

The boy seemed unimpressed. He took it off and held it out to Professor Jones. He scoffed before turning on his heel and marching over to the Ravenclaws. "Tony Stark," he said to the head prefect.

"I'm the Head Prefect. You'll sit with the rest of the first years."

"Tch," Tony scoffed again. "Yeah right." He walked right around him and went to sit near the middle of the table.

 

Meanwhile, up on the platform, Professor Jones beamed at them all. His million watt smile brightened the room. "I am Professor Alfred Jones. I'm head of Gryffindor house." He motioned to the Gryffindor table, which laughed and whooped and clapped for him. He laughed too and when they settled down, went on. "I am also the lead Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. So we'll get to know each other soon enough--so you can start showing bad guys what's what. Now--lets get some food in you starving little heathens."

The feast appeared.

Steve stared, wide-eyed as the tables groaned under the weight of platters and bowls and plates and mountains of food. He'd never seen so much food in his entire life. He and his mother had to scrimp and save. This was overwhelming. He was certain he'd never seen most of these things before. Steve didn't even know where to start.

"Hi!" a cheerful little girl said to Steve after she sat down next to him, "Are you okay? You were breathing kind of funny there. Don't be nervous. You got in Hufflepuff! I think Hufflepuff's the best and I don't care what anyone says. It's color is yellow and is the absolute best." Her short curls bounced around her face as she talked animatedly, "I'm Charlotte, Charlotte Dale, here have some water and oh, look they have lamb stew!"

Steve looked sidelong at her as if he wasn't quite sure what to make of her. "Oh, um...seems--I--yeah," he said. She spoke too quickly to get the answers out. "Lamb stew--bet that's good, right?"

"Oh, good, you're breathing okay now," she said happily. "I love lamb. My parents are farmers." She practically climbed on the bench to heave the stew towards them and serve them good-sized portions.

Steve watched her, still not exactly certain why she was talking to him. "Are you--new too?"

"Mmhm!" she told him, picking up her spoon to scoop up a mouthful. "You've got a neat accent, where are you from?"

"Oh, I'm from Portsmouth. My mother's American. My dad was English."

"That's cool. Are you from a wizarding family?" She asked with interest.

"Um...I guess my dad was a wizard. What about...your parents?" This was....weird, Steve thought. Someone was sitting with him and making conversation. She'd approached _him_. He could count the number of times that had happened with one hand. And the current number would only require one finger.

"Muggles, but my uncle is a wizard, he's taught me some stuff," Charlotte told him proudly. "Try the stew, it's good, promise."

"Oh, really? Like what?"

" _Lumos_!" she said, pulling out her wand to show him. The end twinkled into life. "It's like a torch--a flashlight." 

 

Ela Beilschmidt, the head of Slytherin and the current Potions Master, grinned at her new crop. She was an albino, white hair and red, red eyes. It made her grin look like a slash across her face. "Ready for death on the Quidditch pitch this year, Alfie?" She cooed to the Head of Gryffindor. If there was ever a picture for the ideal friendly rivalry that should be between houses it was her and Alfred F. Jones.

"Tch, only if by that you mean some pretty bruises to go with that tail between your legs!" Jones grinned back.

"Not in front of the children, Alfred!" She beamed.

The transfiguration professor, Braginski leaned forward. "You both seem very certain that your teams will win. You have not yet seen ours."

"Hufflepuff," Beilschmidt recited, red eyes glinting, "putting the _cute_ in _execute_. C'mon, Ivan--no way. It's gonna be the Slytherins."

"You also discount Professor Honda and her Ravenclaws."

"C'mon, they're nerds!" Jones said, laughing.

"Magical combat nerds," Braginski pointed out.

"Speaking of magical nerds--what was with that kid?" Beilschmidt asked, nodding towards the Stark boy. "Anthony Stark was his name?"

"Yeah--his dad is some hotshot inventor on the Muggle side. Musta been a surprise when he wound up coming here," Jones told them. "I heard about them last time I visited New York City. Look at him--I think he has a mobile phone out. Hahaha!"

 

The call came up to go to their dorms eventually. Steve stood, awaiting Charlotte. She was still cheerfully chattering and Steve let her--he didn't have to fill the silence, so he didn't mind. They rounded the corner to go into the hallway.

"Hey, Captain Trips," someone catcalled and gave Steve a shove.

He snatched at air, grabbing for the railing and missed. He slapped into the stone, rolled down several before he could stop himself. He tightened his lips so they wouldn't hear the wheeze in his chest already. He got up, eyes alight.

"Hey!" Charlotte called, "You stop that!"

The older boys sneered at her and got in the way of her rush down to where Steve had fallen. "Shove off, girly. It's like a set of midgets," he chortled to his friends.

Steve was on his feet, scowling. He curled his hands into pale, trembling fists.

"What's the matter, Trips? You mad?"

"Leave her alone!" Steve demanded. He braced his foot, pulling his arm back. "Cowards!"

"What did you say?" one of them sneered at him, "You're gonna get your arse kicked, kid."

"Watch out, Horizon, he's looking for a fight!" The other laughed.

"He'll trip on up here like he trips everywhere else."

The boy snorted, "Him and what--ow!" He reeled back--Steve's little fiery punch had taken him off guard. The four boys bristled, ready for a fight--

"Hi," said voice, appearing from seemingly nowhere.

Charlotte froze on the steps. Steve looked up at a stockier boy with dark hair and dark smoke-blue eyes.

"You're going to be late. The prefects are waiting," said the boy, eyes narrowing at them.

The boy who seemed to be the leader snorted and walked away. His cronies followed him.

Charlotte reached Steve's side, taking hold of his arm. "Are you okay?!" she asked.

"I'm fine," Steve muttered.

Two steps closer and the boy stuck his hand out, "James Buchanan Barnes."

Steve tensed, as if trying to sense for a trap. He hesitated, then took his hand. "That's a mouthful of a name. Steve Rogers. This is Charlotte Dale. Sorry about the hassle."

"No hassle, buncha idiots picking on others," he said, grinning a gap-toothed smile. He shook Steve's hand and then Charlotte's. "You look like a tough kid."

Steve snorted. "Yeah, that's me. Mister Tough-Guy." He smiled in a self-depreciating sort of way.

"Ah c'mon, I saw you all ready to take them on," Barnes huffed. "Takes guts, don't it?"

"They're bullies," Steve shrugged a little. "Bullies are just cowards that travel in packs." He coughed again, hard into his sleeve for about thirty seconds--enough that his eyes watered. He shook it away.

"Hey--you okay?" Barnes asked, shooting a glance at Charlotte before looking back at Steve. "Did they hurt you bad?"

"No--no--" Steve said tersely. "I'm fine."

The prefects suddenly seemed to notice they were gone and came back to collect them

"The dungeon is down, Barnes," the Slytherin prefect said, rolling her eyes. She looked at them skeptically for a moment and then took Barnes' shoulder to steer him away.

Barnes rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Catch you guys later!" He waved to Steve and Charlotte.

She smiled. "He seemed okay. I always heard Slytherins were mean." She stuck close to Steve's side as they walked.

"Stereotypes. That's pretty awful. Saying Hufflepuffs are weak, Slytherins are evil--so what, only Ravenclaws and Gryffindors are worth anything? That can't be true. Why would they even keep a house like Slytherin around if it only produced evil." He looked behind them though. "....but, he was nice. Or, he _seemed_ nice."

"The Hat sang about cunning and ambition, that's not really bad, is it?" She said thoughtfully. "I hope we see him again, we'll probably share some classes with the Slytherins."

Steve shrugged. He hoped the guy had been genuine--but he wasn't ready to put his faith in anyone just yet. "If those boys don't leave you alone...make sure you tell me, okay?"

They were separated inside the cozy Hufflepuff common room. Boys to one side, girls to the other. The dormitory had a large room, spreading out in singular platforms. He went to his. He climbed into the bed, pulling the curtains so that he could be alone. He would do something. This--maybe he could be good. Show them what was up. Help provide for his mother.

 

 

 

In Slytherin house, Loki sat back in a chair. He regarded the others carefully, appraising them with his gaze. He smiled though, open and friendly. He encouraged those around him to talk and chat, just watching, listening. And then he said, "Did you see that boy, Stark? What was with him?" Or more importantly--why could Loki already sense his magic? Everyone was muted around here, besides Thor and himself. Yet Stark, he could feel, burning brightly.

"He's a Muggleborn," Annalise shrugged, a third year student. "His dad is some big inventor. I guess he's the first in his family to come here--weird for an American to come _here_ though. I mean, its not like they don't have wizarding schools in America. Arrogant little shit--was surprised they didn't put him with us," Anna laughed.

"The hat took forever to decide and he argued with it. Doesn't need some House to help him be great--what does he think this is? An education system of equally valued parts, encouraging magic for the good of human development?" Liam, a Beater for the Quidditch team, laughed.

"Or one that fosters a false sense of security by making the Heads think they're in charge when they see someone who looks smarmy. Puts 'em in Slytherin to see if they come out evil or not. End up learning how to get by all the system checks and balances--"

"Like that Voldemort wizard."

"Exactly." Anna went on. "See, if the stupid damn hat really wanted us to learn something--they would put us in houses the opposite of what we are. Then we'd be forced to learn from a different perspective. But that goes back to the time-old argument. Do Houses influence students--or do the students make the House."

"It's easy to say the students make the house," Liam said, "but then why is it that they say the 'bad ones' end up in Slytherin. You ever wonder if these Houses are set up to purposely influence students this way. It's not like the teachers couldn't manage it. You get Jones from the Dark Arts, Braginski and his Transfiguration magic and then Elric in Ancient Runes--it wouldn't be hard."

Loki sat back, listening with interest to the elder two students.

Barnes only half-listened to this conversation, creasing his brow up. He glanced across the room and found the pretty little redhead Romanov looking his way. She wriggled her eyebrows at him and he bit down on a laugh.

 

 

 

The next day, classes began. Steve fought as best he could through the crush of students to get his schedule. The older students scattered like spilled rice. The new students wandered with maps, attempting to find classes.

Steve was in the middle of one such venture when one of the staircases shifted. He started badly and looked up.

"Hey, Captain Trips, you and your girlfriend out on a date?" said the boy, Horizon, from last night. He was holding a feather, and had tickled the staircase. "Too bad you haven't learned how to get around yet."

"You jerk!" Charlotte pelted him with the word.

"Where does this go!" Steve demanded.

Horizon smiled. "Bye~! Have fun getting detention from Professor Beilschmidt when you miss her Potions class."

Separated from the main halls, the only way Steve could go was up. So up he went.

He stood in front of Charlotte. He'd protect her if he could. He turned the knob, opening a huge, heavy door. It branched in two directions. He grabbed a torch off the wall and thanked the Muggle Boy Scouts--they'd at least taught him how to make a spark. The smoke made him cough--his asthma kicked up instantly. He shook it off, despising it.

He didn't notice at first--but there was writing on the walls. Every twenty feet or so, a number would appear chiseled into the stone. It counted up.

In small letters under each number--it said, VAMPIRISIS TESTING LAB.


	2. Vampire Club

"... I don't think students are meant to be here," Charlotte whispered, sticking close to Steve's side.

"It'll be all right," Steve insisted. The torch flickered, casting dusty shadows on the walls. "Though....I...don't think so either..." He could feel his heart starting to race and he breathed deep to try and get it under control. At the end of the hallway, the light shifted. The blackness was not so complete. A door was there, halfway open. It was heavily enchanted and made of some kind of silvery metal. It ran thick with runes. But they were scattered about, centering on the hinges. Steve pushed the door open the rest of the way with the torch.

A lab spread out before them, not unlike a fancy biology laboratory that Steve had seen in documentaries at his Muggle school. In the back, massive glass tubes covered the whole wall. Ten total--except one, which was shattered, they were all completely flawless.

"....hello?" Steve asked the room at large. On the first set of counters, there was a scale with several kilograms of what was apparently powdered dragon tooth. He read the label. "What were they doing with this stuff...? Goblin skin--why would you skin a goblin? Is that even legal?" The next scale had a bowl with a label by it that claimed: STARDUST, CONCENTRATION 7.5. The next set of counters had fluids. The glass here was thick, tempered and very dusty. Each was labelled as well: DRAGONBALM, NETTLE NECTAR, ESSENCE OF WHITEBOAR, CENTAUR'S GLAND, SHEEP BLOOD

On and on until they finally reached the back left corner. Another door was there, shut up tight. "What is this..." Steve looked it over. "It's a magic door, yeah?" He gave it a push but it was solid. Whatever had shattered the glass test tube apparently had not gone in this room. He put his ear to the door but only heard silence. Nothing except his lungs, wheezing from the torch smoke.

"We'll be in so much trouble if we get caught," Charlotte said, fidgeting with her sleeve and goggling at the equipment, "What's all this doing in the school? It seems like... like something dark. We should go back the way we came."

Steve nodded. They couldn't open the door anyway. But...but he'd like to come back and see what was here. He was curious now. If they could open the door...

He pulled away and walked with Charlotte. Back the way they came and through the door. The stairs were still there, but the bottom had, at least, returned to its original position. He left the torch behind the door. Grateful for that, at least. He was dizzy again, black spots in his vision that he fought off as they walked down the stairs--

Then everything went hazy and grey. He collapsed.

 "Steve? You okay? Steve!" Charlotte gasped, crouching down beside him. "Steve! Wake up!" She glanced around, "Help! Someone help!"

 

 

"Barnes," Loki said, as if testing the name on his tongue. "My brother is Thor--disappointed that I have not joined the Gryffindors."

Barnes laughed, "Guess he'll have to deal." He grinned at the girl then, "So you?"

"Natasha Romanov--my family were Russian immigrants," she said. She was a little thing, whipcord thin. Her hair was vibrant red and her voice had the slightest accent.

A figure hopped into the painting of a cauldron. "Professor Beilschmidt, a student has collapsed in the hall!"

The Potions Master leapt up. "You all stay here--no shenanigans."

Steve was limp when Professor Beilschmidt put him in a bed. The nurse, Madelaine Williams, came to examine him. "Scarlet Fever," she said. "And from the look of it, he's had this before. Did his mother say anything about him being sickly? The girl said asthma as well? And frequent Scarlet Fever. And his heartbeat is all over the place...." She hurried to mix up some potions for the boy, his face was ashen.

"The hell?" Beilschmidt blinked. "He's a scrawny-looking one." She said it kindly though. "Guess he'll be out for a while, I'll inform his head of house." She looked at Charlotte, "I guess you might as well spend the rest of the period with your friend, you'll have to go to your next lesson after lunch though." The little girl nodded shyly and looked worriedly over Steve. "Not even a one lesson and he's already taking extreme measures to get out of my class..." Professor Beilschmidt said with a soft sigh. "I'll leave you to it."

"Oh, Ela, he couldn't fake this," the nurse told her. She propped him up and put the potion in his throat. That, at least, helped clear up some of the rash that had intensified under his clothes from all the stress. She pulled out his medical record, leading Beilschmidt into her office. "Steven Grant Rogers, American mother, English father." Her eyebrows raised. "He...has quite a list of medical issues...." She flipped page after page. "They all appear to be muggle-diseases. Asthma, hypertension, heart palpitations, history of Scarlet Fever, Rheumetitis, Strep Throat, seasonal pneumonia...boy, it's a good thing we go through training for non-magical ailments as well..."

Beilschmidt leaned against the desk and let out a concerned grunt. "Merlin's beard... tiniest boy I ever laid eyes on. Good thing his little friend was with him."

"I can see the descent. It must have started young. Scarlet Fever stems from poorly treated Strep Throat...it can hurt the heart in serious cases. That must be why he has these heart and fatigue problems. So no surprise--anxiety as well."

"Poor little guy," Beilschmidt said softly, crossing her arms. "Well, now he's got access to magical cures. We should be able to do something for him. Hell, I know a few potions that could perk him up."

Magical antibiotics were an amazing thing. Steve came around a little, eyes blearily opening.

Charlotte swung her feet and worried her hands. "Steve!" she cried, leaning into his line of sight.

Steve looked at her. "Charlotte....are you okay?" he managed.

"Am I okay?" she squeaked disbelievingly, "You collapsed! The nurse said you have Scarlet Fever, that's really bad!" She took his pale hand in her darker ones. "You should have said you were feeling poorly!"

He shook his head a little. "Had it before...I'll be...all right...if you don't want to...be my friend anymore after this...I understand."

"Why wouldn't I want to?" Charlotte wrinkled her nose. "Don't be daft, of course we'll still be friends. But you have to tell me this stuff. It was scary when you collapsed!"

"Sorry, I just...try to get through it sometimes..."

"Well, you don't have to alone," she told him importantly. "I won't think less of you for it."

Steve looked at her. "You...want to stay my friend?"

"Of course. We're Hufflepuffs. We're loyal," Charlotte said, looking puzzled. "Didn't anyone else?"

He looked away. "No one ever has...."

"Well, they were a bunch of... of idiots," she told him. "That's changing now."

"Sorry," he said, almost automatically.

The nurse came and braced him to give him another potion.

"Don't." Charlotte shook her brown here. "Just rest and get better and I'll see you later. I have to go to classes, so you better sleep. I'll tell you all about them after." Charlotte stood and squeezed his hand before moving to let the nurse do her work.

"I'll be okay," Steve said again.

 

The second potion made him sleep awhile. When he awoke again, the boy was back. The one from the feast. Steve blinked a few times, peering at the other boy.

"Hey, dweeb. Steve, right? The story got round the school," said Barnes, smiling. "I can bet I know who it was--no worries, he'll get a couple jinxes his way."

Steve look flummoxed, not sure what to do. "Uh, oh. Um. Thanks. Did someone tell you to come here? It's okay if a teacher made you."

"Tch, as if I'd let someone tell me." He rolled his eyes. "I brought ya some comics, gotta be dull in here. Hospitals never have anything good to read."

Steve looked at him a long moment. "You were the guy who...made those bullies scram, yeah?"

"Yours truly, James Barnes," he said cheerfully. "Noticed you weren't in Potions today. And don't worry about that guy, like I said, jelly legs jinx is heading his way tomorrow."

"You don't have to get in trouble for that coward..."

"Not much of a Slytherin if I get caught," he assured Steve and winked. "Trust me, kid, I don't like bullies. And hey, after you're out of here I could teach you some jinxes."

Steve looked at him a long moment. ".....really? You'd do that?"

"Sure! I have to pass on my wisdom," he said with all due seriousness--for about five seconds, then the grin was back. "Don't say you don't wanna."

"I would...like that," Steve said, a little uncertainly, studying him. Who _was_ this guy?

"Brilliant! It's a deal. We're friends, no taking it back now," he crowed and dumped the comics on Rogers' lap. There were no X-Men, no Spiderman, no Avengers. But there was Martin the Mad Muggle (comic detective), Solo the Squib (a lonely squib finds strength as an outcast of magical society), Vampire Squad Blooders (vampire hunting, action/adventure) and Forbidden Findings of Fentworth Farther (a wizard archaeologist looking for forbidden relics).

Steve looked down a them in something like stunned astonishment. "We found a door," he blurted out. "In some kind of lab."

"Huh?" he said, pausing in sorting through them, an issue of Captain Andrea (a secret Animagus with a rare animal form, fighting crime) in his right hand. "What sorta lab?" Barnes looked interested.

"We went through the door because we couldn't go back. We had to go down the hall and we found this...science lab. There was a door in the corner, but it wouldn't open. It's magic, I suppose."

"Sounds cool. Was it hidden? I bet it's a secret. This school has all sorts of secrets. There's so many rooms even the headmaster doesn't know them all." he said excitedly. "You got to show me."

Steve hesitated and then smiled. "Yeah...soon as I get out of here?"

"It's a plan." He grinned, intrigued and ready. "Always wanted an adventure."

Steve was held in the infirmary for four days. This was actually an improvement--given the expense of muggle remedies. He was usually bedridden much longer.

 

 

On Friday, he pulled on the robe his mother had made him and headed downstairs to the Hall for breakfast. He kept an eye out for Charlotte.

"Hey, Captain Trips, heard you've been hiding in bed. Ha, nice robe--your girlfriend make that for you?"

Steve scowled, whirling around to face them again--but before he could say a word, Professor Jones seemed to appear from nowhere.

"Ah, hey Chief. Good to see you out of the infirmary. Who are these boys wishing you well?" he asked. Jones had twinkling blue eyes, always bright with laughter. But now, even though his mouth was smiling, his eyes were not.

Their faces got ugly in anger. "Jaketh Horizon," he was forced to admit.

And his three friends: Micah Licorice, Thomas Woodward and Chandler Pierce.

"And I can see by your colors--two Slytherins, a Ravenclaw and a Gryffindor. Interesting to see houses crossing over. I'll let Professor Beilschmidt know that you were checking up on Rogers. And the head of Ravenclaw as well, Pierce."

Horizon scowled.

"Well, as nice as that is--time's a-wasting. So, scoot. Now."

The boys looked at each other and then turned to go. Horizon met Steve's eyes. _I'll get you._

Steve glared back.

Jones looks at Steve. "You feeling better, Rogers?"

Steve nodded, breathing in an attempt to calm his thundering heart.

"Those boys come bother you, you should tell me. Licorice is a Gryffindor." He wrinkled his nose, as if personally offended. "I'll make his life miserable. I'm half-American too, you know. The cheeseburgery parts of us gotta stick together. Yeah?"

"Th-thank you, sir," Steve answered quietly.

"All right. Be careful, Rogers. Good luck today."

Steve nodded, thanked him quietly and walked away. His head ached and he ignored it. His appetite was gone but he made himself eat some toast and then it was off to class.

He was already playing catch-up and he'd just got here. But, this was not exactly new for him. Charlotte chattered to him the whole way to and all through class, catching him up on what he'd missed and promising he could look at her class notes. He thanked her quietly. He was not quite used to her kindness. It was strange. He kept expecting her to disappear from his radar, like she'd never been there. But he was grateful--she seemed to want to really be his friend.

As they went into that day's Potions lesson Barnes slipped next to Steve. "Be my partner?" he said, flicking wisps of wavy short brown hair out of his eye. 

Steve looked at him. "Oh, uh--yeah. Sure." Which was good because the fumes made Steve cough and gasp. "Ba--" he coughed out, "Gruh, I'm just gonna call you Buck."

Barnes looked at him. "Buck?"

"Sorry, I coughed--uh, yeah. Buck. Is that okay?"

"Naw, I like it. Buck. Bucky?"

Steve smiled a little. "Okay--um, yeah. Bucky."

"Great!" Barnes took Steve by the arm and, with a wink at Charlotte, steered him over one of the tables and threw his bag down on it. "You're Muggle-born, right?"

He looked back at Charlotte--feeling a suddenly twinge of guilt--like he'd left her, but she just smiled and waved at him reassuringly before going to sit with another Hufflepuff girl. And then, Barnes was there, talking to him and everything. It was so weird. "Uh--yeah, I am. Are you?"

"Nope, wizard through and through. I guess you could call my family the old pureblood type," he said, parking himself on the chair.

He sat across from him. "Oh--I guess I don't have any frame of reference for that. I lived on the muggle side my whole life."

"It means all my family was witches and wizards for generations back. Not a muggle among us. Maybe a squib here and there--that's a witch or wizard who can't use magic."

"Wow...you must be pretty good then?"

Bucky shrugged. "Well, we're not actually allowed to practice magic till we come to school. There's this law..." he drawled the word _law_ out long and scornful. "Underage magic they call it. Not allowed, so I might know some theory stuff but really I got no more practice than you or anyone else."

"Oh, okay." Steve had his cauldron ingredients labelled. He pulled them out, carefully measuring some. "When did you want to see that door?" he asked, tossing some of the plant in and then leaning away, coughing hard at the fumes.

Bucky patted him on the back absently. "After last period." He glanced at the blackboard, Professor Beilschmidt had waved the instructions onto it with a lazy flick of her wand. "You ever cooked before?"

"Uh--not a whole lot," Steve admitted. "Not all that great at it."

"Lean back, short stack." Bucky grinned. "My parents are pro at potions. I'm used to weird smells." Bucky moved in to start helping with the ingredients.

 

After potions, they had only Transfiguration and that was it. Steve wasn't sure if Bucky was actually going to show up down by the main hall, but he went anyway to see. He told Charlotte he was going to go check out that door again, leaving the offer open if she wanted to come.

Charlotte hesitated and then nodded, flashing him an excited grin. "Okay."

Bucky was waiting for them, leaning against the staircase. He pushed himself up the moment they came into view. "Hey, cool, you came too." He smiled at Charlotte. "Let's do this thing."

Steve led the way and, with Charlotte's help, they found the door again. It took some maneuvering to get the staircases to move where they needed them but eventually the three were slipping through. "Lumos," Steve murmured. His grandmother's wand twinkled into life. Charlotte and Bucky lit up their wands too, peering about eagerly. Through the creepy hall, their sneakers scuffing the floor, and went back into the laboratory. "This place is...insane. Do you know what they might have been doing?" He asked Bucky, leading them to the impressive silvery door. It was still shut tight.

"I bet it's vampires." the other boy said, looking at the writing. "Half our year's convinced our Head of House is one. Let's try this, _alohomora_!" he pointed his wand at the door.

The lock jangled but stayed shut tight.

Steve put his bag down. "I went to the library and I asked about magic doors." The book he pulled out was half as big as he was. "It took me a long time"--and hassle from Micah Licorice--"but I found a book about them." He opened the tome, leaning back from the dust. "We need a silver key, I guess," he said. He didn't know what the whole page said--it was magic that was beyond him. But he could see a little diagram of a key. And silver. "And it has to be enchanted. We could make one maybe. I heard that Stark already knows spells--maybe he could help us?"

"Guess it wouldn't be that easy," Bucky said, as if he hadn't expected it to work (he had). He moved to lean over what Steve was looking at, Charlotte crowding on his other side.

She was nodding. "I heard he's real smart. In Muggle stuff as well as magic stuff, he's been trying to get his phone to work here and got detention for it already."

"Well, we'll scout him out then."

The next day, they had Herbology with the Ravenclaws and they spoke to the dark-haired, dark-eyed boy. He looked interested and grinned. "Breaking rules is a specialty of mine."

Right after their last class, Slytherins and Ravenclaws were being introduced to broomsticks by Professor Hedavary. So it was just Steve and Charlotte when Micah Licorice peeked out, snickered and followed. He crept up to the two of them. "Boo!" Pumpkin juice, icy cold, showered the two of them from seemingly nowhere.

Steve whirled around, little fists flying out. The Gryffindor dodged back, laughed. Steve looked ridiculous, soaked in juice, but his thin face was hollow with anger. It was nothing for Licorice to throw him against the wall. "You should consider getting a real boyfriend, Dale."

"You should think about growing a brain!" She snarled at him, her curls soaked and sticky around her face. "I think you left it back in the Jurassic age!" Charlotte kicked the bigger boy right in the shin. "Let him go!"

Woodward shoved her back against the wall. "Shut it. Little brat has it coming. You know we have to deal with that stupid kid, Barnes, now? He cast a jelly-legs at Horizon when he got off the ground on his broom. He's at the infirmary. So, its only fair to teach him a lesson if he's going to pretend to be bodyguard to Rogers here. "

Pierce and Licorice didn't both need to go after Steve--he was so small--but they did anyway. Steve felt his lungs stutter and said the first spell that came to mind, jinxing Pierce with a body-bind. He stiffened up and fell. He would only be down for a few minutes--he should get to Charlotte and--

Licorice seemed to take that jinx personally. He punched the tiny boy in the face. Over and over--enough of a scene that a clamor started to build.

"Stop it! Stop it!" Charlotte cried out, terror starting to well up when blood splattered onto the stone floor. "Leave him alone!" she begged, fighting against Woodward. "He didn't do anything! You're just bullies! You're too afraid to fight Barnes and so you came after Steve! Someone! Help!"

Another boy rounded the corner. "Hey!" He was a second year and bigger than the three bullies. He pushed through yammering students. "What's going on!"

"Piss off, Banner," said Licorice, sitting on Steve's chest. "He jinxed Pierce."

"Go get a teacher then. Let him go."

Steve snarled and when Licorice looked back at him, he sucked in and spit blood and saliva right into his eyes.

Banner dashed forward--Woodward intercepted. Pierce's jinx wore off and he hopped up to help Woodward.

"Steve!" Charlotte cried out in dismay. She grabbed for her wand, intending to make her own contribution when the wave of students suddenly parted.

"Enough." The voice was not loud but it was authoritative. It belonged to a teacher, a small Japanese woman with a very serious expression on her face. Her wand was out. Noriko Honda was the head of Ravenclaw and the Astronomy teacher for the school. "You will stop this immediately."

Licorice had his fist sunk elbow deep in that little shit's stomach. He looked at the teacher and dropped Steve on the ground.

"Professor--" Banner began.

"He jinxed Pierce!" Licorice exclaimed, pointing at Steve. "He asked for it!"

"They attacked us first!" Charlotte cried, at Steve's side in seconds. "They threw pumpkin juice on us and attacked Steve! He was just trying to defend himself. And that boy was trying to help us." She pointed at Banner.

Her dark eyes flicked around them, "Physical violence is never an acceptable solution," she said in her soft, unwavering tone. "Detention with me." She pointed her wand to Licorice, Pierce and Woodward. "Eight o'clock on Friday. Ten points each from your Houses for unacceptable behavior. Your Head of Houses will be informed, now get out of my sight. The rest of you, move along."

Honda approached the Charlotte, Steve and Banner. "I think we had best get you to the infirmary. Banner, if you would be so kind as to help Rogers."

"Yes, Professor," Banner said and simply picked Steve up.

"Pummee down," Steve demanded. "I can walk...I can--"

"Quiet. You weigh just about as much as my mother's broomstick," Banner said. He glanced at Charlotte. "Does this happen a lot?"

Charlotte nodded miserably. "They started on him the first day. I don't know what is is, they just focus on Steve."

The professor followed them, her wand put away. "I believe Professor Braginski mentioned something of the sort." She gently handed Charlotte a handkerchief to wipe her face.

Banner nodded. "Because he's small."

"I don't need a doctor," Steve murmured again, smearing blood across his face when he tried to wipe his nose. "We gotta meet...Barnes..."

"Just let them make sure your nose isn't broken, Rogers."

"It's not--I know what that feels like."

Banner smiled a little. "You are pretty stubborn."

"Steve's the bravest boy I ever met," Charlotte said and her conviction made Honda smile.

"At least we can do something for the bruises, Rogers." 

Honda saw them safely to the infirmary and informed the nurse of what had happened. She then left the three students to their own devices and the nurse's care. If Horizon had been there, he was gone now.

"Thank you," Charlotte said to Banner when she was gone. "No one else was doing anything."

Banner shook his head. "I'm sorry for that--kids are weird when other kids fight."

"It's not your fault, I'm just glad you helped when you did."

"I remember you two from the Sorting. I'm Bruce Banner--second year, Ravenclaw."

"Charlotte Dale, and this is Steve Rogers." She smiled at him. "We're both in Hufflepuff." 

They sopped up the blood and wiped his face. Bruises were purpling his eye, jaw and cheek. Finger marks were on his skinny arms.

Steve was right in one thing--his nose wasn't broken. "We're going to meet Bucky and Stark," Steve said, finally wrenching away from the nurse and hopping down. He gingerly took a couple steps and then started away.

"Can I walk with you?" Bruce asked. His smile was a little shy but genuine.

"Sure." Charlotte smiled back at him with relief.

"You said you're meeting Stark?" Bruce followed, curiously.

"Yeah, we had some questions for him," Charlotte said brightly. "We were hoping he could help. He seems pretty clever."

Bruce smiled. "Well, that's one way of putting it. He's a handful. The Prefects hate him." He laughed. 

"Why? Is he in trouble a lot?"

"Well...he can already use his magic better than most of the fourth year students. And he doesn't listen to any of the Prefects or give a wit about House points. He thinks it's all stupid."

"Oh boy."

"Yeah."

 

 

When they found the staircase and headed up, Bruce's eyes widened. "Oh....this is one of the old research wings."

Tony yawned. "See if I show up on time again. What the heck, Rogers? Wh--" and then he trailed off, seeing his face. "What happened to you?"

Steve pushed passed him and open the door.

Bucky grabbed his arm. "Who hit you! Was it those jerks again? Wait till I see 'em!"

"This is Bruce Banner. He helped us," Charlotte said, introducing the older boy, "Professor Honda gave them detention."

"You need a bodyguard, Rogers," Stark snorted, heading down the hall.

Steve tried to duck away a little from Bucky's touch, not making eye contact.

"Ha, I interrupted, you mean," Bruce said with a wry smile. "When I came up, he spit blood into Licorice's face. It was pretty great."

"Whoa!" Bucky looked impressed, he held on to Steve's arm--even when the small boy tried to keep walking. "Not bad, Steve. Knew you were tough." He marched beside Steve, allowing the other boy to walk again, "Come on, pal. We're going to plan the best revenge scheme ever later." There was something in his eyes, softer than his words.

Steve looked at him, blinked at his expression. Something keened at it--the softness there but at the same time--he wanted to jerk away from him. Flee. Flee from the possibility of pity. He didn't want pity. He looked down at his shoes instead.

The lab spread out before them, instantly capturing Stark's attention. "Oh, now this is more like it!"

Charlotte looked after Stark, "You seen stuff like this before?"

"Oh yeah, my dad's laboratories are way more advanced--but yeah. I had chemistry sets like this when I was a kid."

Behind them, Bruce chuckled quietly. "You're still a kid."

"Shut up, dog-breath." Tony approached the door. "This it?"

"Oh, uh--yeah. Uh." Steve hauled the heavy book out and showed him the page. "Silver, enchanted key."

Stark lifted an eyebrow. "Yeah, right. You don't need that!"

"....huh?"

"You know, in the days that I've been here, I've had more wizards tell me how awesome the wizarding side is compared to our side," he said, opening his robe and taking out a ring of little tools, "but you know what I find? They try too hard. I mean, they still use inkwells! I'd make a fortune off these guys." He knelt. "These wizard doors lock with magic--because they don't expect us to know how to do this--" He jimmied it and pop--it unlocked.

Charlotte hands clapped in delight. "That was so--easy!" 

Tony did a slight double-take at Charlotte. "See, easy. You enchant the tools and you're good to go."

Steve started. "Whoa!" He hadn't even thought of breaking and entering. Not like that, anyway.

Tony stood back. "Well, if there's a giant tentacle monster, I'm not going first. Banner, you're the oldest, take charge."

Bruce chuckled again. " _Lumos_ ," he murmured and sent balls of light glittering into the room. It was pitch black around them until Steve started lighting candles.

And when he turned around--

He froze. To his credit, Steve made no sound. But his face paled to ashy gray and he grabbed onto the table with all the candles.

On the wall, strapped to it in an X--there was...a person. She had a mass of red hair, pale skin. She was wearing old hunter clothes--doeskin leather trousers and jerkin. But no gloves or boots. At her ankles and wrists there were silver locks.

Tony just raised his eyebrows. "Well, I wonder what department you find this sort of wall decor in. Is she dead?"

"I'm not sure," Bruce said. "She seems--"

Her eyes suddenly sparked awake. They were silvery-green and they honed in on Steve.

Bucky edged between her and Steve, his eyes dark. "Who are you, lady?"

Steve looked up at the back of Bucky's head, startled.

Bruce lifted a hand towards Bucky. "Calm down--I think she's...."

"Where are the...scientists?" she murmured. "I need..."

"We should probably get her out of that thing," Stark said, looking at Bruce expectantly.

Bruce shifted uncomfortably. "Uh...I...can't. Those locks are silver. I'm....allergic."

"Well, they certainly can't reach it. And I can't either."

The vampire's eyes raised, appraising Bruce for a moment. Then back at other boy--standing in front of a snack-sized human. "Who are you?"

It took everything in him not to look away from her icy stare. "I'm Bucky Barnes, and these are my friends. Stop looking at Steve like that. You a vampire?"

"Barnes--calm down," Bruce told him. The second-year pulled up a chair to stand on. He was as careful as he could, the silver still grew hot--sensing his blood in his fingers. He managed to get them undone and the thing fell to the ground.

"There hasn't been anyone in here in years," Stark told her. "What were they researching here?"

"I smell blood," she said again.

"Yeah, no kidding, Rogers just had a fight," Stark said dismissively. "Look--what were they researching here?"

"Were they trying to cure you of something?" Bruce asked.

She managed to stand. She was only a little taller than Bucky. She approached him, looking around him at Steve. "They did not often give real blood...they made a synthetic version..."

"Let's find that!" Bruce exclaimed, seeing her eyes getting more focused, hungry. "There's got to be some, yeah?"

The woman stared at Steve.

Stark and Bruce looked at each other and then scattered to search for the synthetic.

Bucky kept standing in front of Steve. "You're a vampire. What were you doing here? What's all this? What happened to the people who locked you up?" His wand was in his hand and inside his chest his heart was beating rapid fire.

"The last experiment was done a long time ago," she said, edging closer to Bucky. Her eyes burned into the bloodstains on Steve's robe.

"Got it!" Stark called, throwing the bottle to Bruce. He uncorked it.

Her attention was grabbed in a flash. He tossed it to her and she downed it in an instant. That seemed to wake her up--take her out of that blood daze. "Where am I? Where are the scientists? The last experiment was 2005."

Behind him, Steve touched Bucky's shoulder. He didn't know what to say, still a little overwhelmed by Bucky's determination to help him. He swallowed hard, nodding a little to him. _It's okay. Are you okay? Thanks._

There was a slight tremble in Bucky's frame but he hadn't wavered for an instant. Protect Steve, that was all he could think about in those moments. He looked back at the smaller boy gratefully, giving him a reassuring smile.

"I... we don't know. We found this place by accident," Charlotte told her quietly. "We're students at Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts," she said, tasting the word on her tongue. "The research wing. Is anything else from the Forbidden Forest here?"

"Yes, the research wing," Bruce confirmed. "...and the only one we found was you, uh....what's your name?"

"Caoimhe," she said shortly. "More blood?"

Stark had an armful of little bottles. "I'm keeping one--I'm taking over this lab, by the way. Thank you, guys. You're good friends to me."

"Don't you think we should tell the teachers?" Charlotte ventured. "They must not know about this place either."

"Or maybe they do and they didn't want anyone else to," Bucky snorted.

Stark scoffed. "No way! You tell them and I don't get a lab! I thought we were friends, Charlotte? Would you do that to a friend?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "Who said we were your friends?"

"Of course, you want to be friends with me. I'm awesome. And now I have a lab. A secret lab!"

Bucky rolled his eyes but was grinning lazily, "It's like a secret vampire clubhouse."

"I have to admit....there are some things I'd like to, uh, work on," Banner said.

"I imagine so, you being a werewolf and all," Stark snarked.

Banner tensed, looking at him.

The others all looked at him.

"What? Was it not obvious to everyone else? Allergic to silver? I mean, come on."

"Hey, it's okay, Banner," Bucky said. " I don't think it's catching except for when there's a full moon rolling, right?" He looked at Tony. "You're too smart for your own good." He his hand on Steve's shoulders.

"There's no such thing," Tony said to him, smirking. "I guess this magic will be useful for cleaning the place." He swished his wand and some brooms, mops and a rag hopped up to clean. "Cleaning is so boring."

Steve felt the comforting weight of Bucky's arm. He couldn't help but lean into it, allowing himself to be tucked into Buck's side. He was exhausted suddenly.

Bucky looked down at him, "Easy there, champ," he said kindly. "We got a couple hours till curfew still," he said to the rest of them, "let's look around and see if we can find some clothes for Caoimhe."

"I would..appreciate it. I should not leave this place. The paintings will tell on me. They did not bring me here without a fight. I did not volunteer for this."

Charlotte nodded, "Okay. We can find you those." A vampire lab! Secret experiments! It was so exciting!

 

 

When the others went exploring he looked at Steve, "Need to sit down a bit? You can. I won't say nothing."

Steve nodded and sat down. "Sorry, my stupid body gets all wound up. You, uh, you were gonna stare down that woman. I, uh--I owe you. Next vampire is on me."

He grinned wide. "That a promise? I could go for that as a future career, ya know. Sure, it's a few years off but we'd make it work."

"Yeah, hunt vampires," he said. "That sounds pretty interesting. Maybe Bruce can be our brawn. I could handle weapons."

"And I'll be the dashing one who charms all the girls," Bucky said, brushing his hair back with one hand. "And we'll be famous!"

"Of course, and get us in all the trouble with girl-vampires! And then I'll have to save you all the time!"

He laughed. "Yeah! And I'll be all cool about it and say some awesome line. Then we'll fist bump and drive off into the sunset every time."

Steve laughed. He smiled softly. "Yeah....that'd be nice." He grimaced. "Hey, Bucky. Teach me some hexes?"

"Sure thing, buddy." Bucky's smile became a smirk, all business. He sat down with him and drew out his wand. "Okay, this is the leg-locker curse, does what it says on the tin. The spell goes _Locomotor Mortis_."

Steve tried to mimic him. He lacked all of Buck's grace, finesse and style. But he could cast.

During the session, Tony returned. "What are you two doing? Tch, you'd be better off teaching him a shield, James."

"He asked for hexes," Bucky snorted. "... an' I don't know the shield spell. You know it, smart guy?"

"Yeah, I do. Maybe you should look into things a little more, James."

"Not all of us are 'geniuses', Stark," he drawled. "Maybe you could just go ahead and share."

"It's called _Protego_ , Steve. Hold up your wand--haha, what is that--"

"It's my grandmother's."

"Tch, we should take you to Diagon Alley, get you a proper wand."

"You gonna teach or not?"

"Might not do as well without a wand that's yours. But, it's _Protego_. Just flick, you'll be fine. Now, stand over by the wall--I'm gonna cast a jinx at you and show James what's what."

Steve wasn't sure he liked the sound of this plan. "What do you mean, just a flick?"

"A flick--c'mon, go to the wall."

Steve hesitated--and then obeyed. He wasn't afraid. He wasn't. He'd learn this. Tony cast jelly-legs on him.

" _Pro-protego_!" Steve cried--and then collapsed in a heap.

Tony just laughed. "Gotta be quicker, Rog! And flick your wand! Flick it!"

"Stark!" Bucky snapped, "Merlin's beard, that's your teaching method?" He headed for Steve, "Here, I know the anti-jinx, repeat after me." He told him the words and showed him how before snorting at Tony. "You could just throw a pillow or something."

"What does a pillow teach?" Tony challenged, grinning. "He's just gotta be faster."

"Give the kid a break, he's learning." Bucky glared at him and helped Steve up, "Dial it back. You'll get the hang of it, Steve."

"No, I can--I can do it," he gasped, angrily. "I'm not a damn kid, Bucky! Do it again, Stark. With a better hex! Something dangerous."

"See, that's more like it! He's scrawny--but he doesn't wanna be treated like glass, Barnes." Tony prepared to cast again. "Now, flick, Steve! Else this hex is gonna hurt!"

Steve fought back an intense wave of nausea and black spots in his eyes. He stuttered over the spell. Tony's next jinx caused boils to well up on Steve's hands, bursting and burning with blood and pus. Steve dropped his wand, scrambling back and tearing off his shirt to wipe his arms frantically.

It took precisely two seconds after this happened for Bucky to launch himself at Tony and punch him in the jaw. "You IDIOT! Knock it off! The hell are you thinking?!" he snarled. "Steve, hey Stevie, hold on, it's okay. We'll get these looked at," Bucky said, furious one moment and then frantic the next, kneeling by Steve and taking the shirt to do it for him. "Just calm down, okay?"

Tony staggered back into the wall. "I'm trying to help, geez!"

Steve's breathing went right into a wheeze, collapsing to his knees, shaking.

Luckily, Bruce appeared with Charlotte. "Now, what happened?" He jogged over. "All right, Steve. Hold on--" He looked at Bucky. "Tony?" he asked and turned to look at the boy.

"I was trying to help!" Tony insisted again.

"You used the blisterpit hex. You shouldn't be learning that yet."

"I'm bored!"

Bruce helped Bucky hold onto Steve--and then cast from his own wand. It stopped the spread of the blisters. They burst a last time with blood and then closed up. He cast some charms to heal and sooth it. Then he stood. "Tony, c'mere. You and I are gonna have a little conversation in the hallway."

"But why! I--"

Bucky looked up. "You got such a clever brain, how 'bout you use it for once! He wasn't ready for your advanced crap, you pull something like that again and I'll tear your arms off!"

"It's fine," Steve said, and shook, dry-retched and then slumped. "I told him to do it. I wanted him to. Don't learn nothin from pillows." He leaned on back against the wall.

"See!" Tony said. "He's just got more guts than you, Barnes!" 

Bruce grabbed his arm and pulled him away.

 

Whatever happened or was discussed between Bruce and Tony--the latter came back in looking sullen. He shrugged, looking away. "Hey--look, sorry, okay. I wanted to help! I've seen this kid before--and I've heard the First years who hang out with Pierce talking about him. It's--"

"Tony," said Bruce, raising eyebrows.

"All right, all right. Fine--okay. Sorry. Just, sorry."

Bucky grimaced and sat between Steve and practically everyone and everything else like a grumpy guard dog. He looked at Steve after the apology, looking to see how he took it. "... well, helping's fine, just need to rethink your methods."

"His methods are fine," Steve insisted. "I have to learn." He got up shakily. "It's not Tony's fault," he scowled.

"Well, we all know the lab is here. Miss Caoimhe--we'll arrange to get you some clothes. I'm going to spell password the door," Bruce said. "The password will be _Bandersnatch_. Now, we should probably go before we're missed."

"That's a good idea. I need a wash." Charlotte said, as she and Steve had never cleaned off the pumpkin juice. "You too, Steve."

Bucky nodded, "Let's meet up again after classes tomorrow." he smiled. Then it was the weekend, plenty of free time.

Steve pulled his shirt back on--now ruined from pumpkin juice, blood and pus. He walked for the door. Bruce was the last one out, spelling the door. Charlotte waved at Caoimhe before they left.

 

The Ravenclaws headed up to their tower. Bucky parted from them at the stairs down to the dungeon, "See you tomorrow, good night," he said, lightly patting Steve's shoulder before running off downwards.

Charlotte and Steve were left to go the final distance to their common room, passing the painting of the bowl of fruit which led to the kitchens.

Steve watched him leave. He turned to walk with Charlotte. "I'm sorry again--about those boys....I...I don't want you to get hurt."

"Don't be. I'm not scared of them, Steve." She shook her head. "Friends stick up for each other."

 The next day, Stark was there first. In fact, he cut out of the end of class--he was passing everything anyway. By the time they arrived, he was chatting to Caoimhe and boiling up her synthetic blood. "Put a piece of bacon in for flavoring. See how you like that."

She did and nodded. "Not bad, Mister Stark."

He had also had the place cleaned and was rigging up the electric. "Hi!" he sang out to them.

"Hi!" Charlotte called back, dropping her back on a table, a book spilled out of it. "What are you two up to?"

Bucky came in behind Steve, surveying the situation and walking at his left. "You been here a while, Stark?" He looked more relaxed today, evidently having somewhat forgiven Tony for his transgressions.

"Hey, madam," Tony told Charlotte. He hopped off the table, all dashing smiles. "Come and see!" He ran over to the wall and flipped the switch. Lights shuddered and then breathed life into the room. "Candles and torches--it's stupid! These lights are far more efficient an they won't pollute experiments. It goes all the way to the right wing too--here!" He ran over to the door. "Viola!" He said grandly and pushed.

The door opened and there was a narrow hallway, leading to the other wing. "Goes right to a set of observation rooms. I'm claiming two of them as my room and one for my books. But you all can do whatever with the rest."

"Thanks for your consideration," Steve said, rolling his eyes.

Charlotte looked delighted. "I thought Hogwarts was supposed to fry electronics!" she gasped, spinning. "How'd you do it?"

At Steve's side Bucky was completely at a loss, he'd only seen electric lights passing through Muggle areas. "Uh... yeah..."

"With my amazing genius. The thing about these wizards--they don't have anyone who seems to really understand our technology. They think we're all backwards barbarians for not using magic. But we've gone as far as we have because we thought of everything ourselves. Using a small amount of hydrogen, deuterium and tritium--this little baby smashes them together to create hot fusion, and self-perpetuating clean energy--of course, but the circular shape--this doughnut here--the particles are smashing together to create an electromagnetic field. Plus, my dad's tried and true hoverfield technology--I've created a barrier for the electric." He took Charlotte's hand, imitating what he had, no doubt, seen his dad do to charm ladies. He pointed at the thick, black cords. "Those cables are protected by a self-regulating electromagnetic forcefield."

She let him and followed along, eyes following where he pointed. "I already wish there was a wizard internet." she laughed. Charlotte had her own laptop at home, it was bright blue and she missed it. "This is crazy, how'd you even get that stuff here--Stark secret?" she grinned at him. "We haven't even been here but a few months and you can do all this."

He grinned. "What are they going to do? Steal it all from me? I tinker, I told them. And Bruce actually helped me out. He stuck up for me. He's not so bad, really. Credit where credit is do--it _was_ his idea to tweak the hoverfields for an electromagnetic self-regulating barrier. All we had to do was create the doughnut. I mean--that was my idea--but I guess he _did_ help with the propulsion."

Steve couldn't help but be impressed--even if he had no idea what Tony was talking about. He huffed a little but smiled, shaking his head. "It's impressive," he said, sounding consoling and patting Bucky on the back.

"I don't get it." Bucky said, blinking. "What's wrong with torches and candles again?"

He scoffed at James. "They don't give adequate light. The fumes can pollute experiment results. You have to constantly replace wicks and wax. What a pain!"

Bucky shrugged. It was as natural to him as breathing, "These things are really bright," he said in a cautious compliment. "What kind of experiments?"

"Good kinds," Tony said flippantly. "I just made our vampire a new blood elixir thing. I believe from the ingredients I've found they were attempting to find a cure for vampirism. But the scientists disappeared in--" he checked his notes, "--August of 2005. Or at least, that's when all the records I found end. There are about two hundred years worth of notes in here."

"They just disappeared?" Bucky frowned.

Charlotte pursed her lips. "But who let them do it? Isn't this sort of thing illegal? And doing it in Hogwarts--this is a school!"

Tony looked curious. "Well--universities do experiments. Not like this, of course. It's illegal to do them on the unwilling. Though that doesn't mean it hasn't happened. 2005 was only a decade ago--and just like on our side, people are stupid and prejudice. But I did find this really odd tool--some kind of...examination table--and it uses...I'm not sure if they're lasers or a magical field of quantum particles--but it did shock me when I put my hand in it--until I turned down the power with the knob doohickies. Looks like that stuff that comes out of Castle Asgard."

"You should be careful," Bucky said. "Stuff like that could be real dangerous." He snorted, thinking of Loki suddenly. That was a really sly kid right there.

Caoimhe looked away, frowning.

"Of course--and the most interesting."

"The boys from Asgard both go here," Bruce said, having appeared from the woodwork. "Odinson, Thor and Loki. Thor is in Gryffindor but Loki--I think he went to Slytherin."

"Loki did go to Slytherin, we share a dorm," Bucky told him. "He's not so bad. Good at getting other people talking though."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. Sounds like a smart guy."

"Be careful around Loki--Thor talks about him. Thor is easy to read, easy to deal with. His wears his heart on his sleeve. But Loki is different," Bruce advised. "I'm not saying he's bad---but just...he's tricky."

"Good Slytherin then," Bucky agreed. "Heh, don't worry, I'm pretty tricksy too." He smoothed back his hair and winked playfully. "He won't get nothing out of me."

Charlotte rolled her eyes.

"Tch, unless he's got a cute sister," Steve threw in, looking up under his bangs at Buck.

"Shut up, punk!" he laughed. "Told ya, chatting up girls is for the future. An' I'll be damn good at it."

"Chatting up girls is all the time," Tony said, looking sagely. "You have to practice. Charlotte is so petite. Just wait until she gets older and see which of us she remembers better."

Charlotte blinked and her cheeks pinked. "Well, haha... that's silly."

"Hey, I got natural talent," the taller boy laughed, "and the looks. This face." He pointed at himself with a grin.

"I've got all those things _and_ I'm a genius. _And_ I'm gonna have money." Tony challenged.

"You can't win girls with money, idiot," he scoffed.

"Maybe not, but it certainly helps." Tony smirked.

Caoimhe sighed. "How do you know that she'd want either of you?"

Charlotte grinned at the vampire, snickering.

Tony blinked. "What? What do you know? You've been stuck in here for a stone age!"

"Well, maybe she'll wanna date Wolfie over there. Or, maybe she'll remember all those times she helped the skinny kid clean blood off his clothes."

Bruce's ears turned red. Steve rolled his eyes.

Bucky gaped. "Yeah, well... I mean, I guess she couldn't go wrong with Steve, better than this clown." He pushed Tony playfully, huffing.

Charlotte blushed, "Well... I don't want to date anyone yet. Maybe in a few years." She was fighting a grin though.

Steve looked away, shaking his head. "Yeah right, Bucky--why would anyone go for me if they could have you," he said quietly.

 

 

They spent many hours in their hideout. Tony rigged up a light system for them and they cleaned out all the holding cells, turning them into rooms for them. But he couldn't help it, Tony was bored. So bored. He read the books, absorb knowledge, done. Eventually, he gave it up and started cutting class entirely. Tony did not care about rules he didn't like.

In Potions, he looked over the assignment and sighed. In just minutes, he had it cooking. The rest were going to take the whole two hours. He put his name on his sheet and just got up, grabbed his bag and walked out.

Beilschmidt looked up from her desk to see one of her students literally just walk out of the classroom like it was no big deal. Huh. She shut her book and hid it in the drawer and stood up. "I'll be back soon, keep working," she said breezily.

Tony slipped up the back staircase, tickled it on the left side of the seventh step. "Bandersnatch," he said to Bruce's door. He slipped inside.

"Lights on!" he called and they responded to him, fluttering into life. At the lab, he put his bag down. "Hey, Caoimhe--how are you? Hey, you didn't really think that James would really ever beat me, do you? That's hurtful. Anyway--got some ground dragonscale. I'm gonna blend it with white cap and wormwood--got them from the Forbidden Forest--in theory, those things should create a loose-binding compound paste that would get rid of blisterpit blisters."

Caoimhe didn't answered Tony's barrage of questions. She never did. He liked talking out his thoughts. She had the feeling she understood--he was a genius. He was eleven. Bored at a school of _magic_. Everything felt slow, no one could keep up. His thoughts moved so fast that they tumbled out of him.

 

 

Well, this was new. Beilschmidt had never even seen this part of the castle before and she'd even attended Hogwarts before becoming one of its teachers. It was a nice hiding spot Tony had found, that was for sure.

"Bandersnatch," she repeated and opening the door stepped inside, "What the--" bright light was foremost what she registered and blinked her eyes rapidly to adjust to it. She followed him further, walked into the lab and found herself staring at a pale, redheaded woman. "Stark, what is this?!"

Stark whirled around. "Um. Uh. Eh-oh. Uh. Well. It's my....lab."

"Your... lab," she said, stepping slowly forward in her long black robes, standing starkly against her white skin. Beilschmidt's eyes took in the setup, the back of her mind yelling at how impressive it was and right here! "And who are you?" she asked the woman carefully.

"This is a vampire that I found chained up in the next room by whoever the previous occupant was. She's my assistant, so you can't make her leave," Tony informed her importantly.

Beilschmidt stared at the two of them. Her mouth opened... said nothing. Repeated this a couple of times. Then, completely ignoring proper staff and student interaction protocol said: "Well, shit."

Then she burst out laughing. "Your assistant! Merlin's arse, that's a good one! The hell!" She had to lean against the table, she was laughing so hard. The anger she'd been ready to unleash in a rant about proper school behavior had fled beyond her reach.

Tony folded his arms to wait. He glanced over at Caoimhe, who shrugged.

Beilschmidt had to wipe away the tears from the corners of her eyes, "Okay, okay I'm fine, I'm fine." She coughed a little and swallowed. "Right, so... Miss Vampire, you really his assistant? Because you really look like a vampire." And that was enough to sober her up because despite the hilarity of the situation, vampires were exceedingly dangerous, especially to young students. They were one of many things that lurked in the Forbidden Forest after all.

"Hey--I just said she was a vampire. But she's my assistant. So you can't have her. Sorry, snowflake."

Beilschmidt frowned at the woman. "Do you let him do all your talking for you?" She didn't bat an eyelash to add on, "Call me snowflake again and you're scrubbing out all the dirty cauldrons from today's lessons by hand, Tony. Me teacher, you not."

"Tch--show me something you can actually teach me then," Tony shot back, scowling.

"He doesn't," Caoimhe said. "But he's not lying. He found me chained to the wall. The researchers here did many experiments on me."

"If you wanted something more challenging you only had to ask, kid." Beilschmidt snorted at him. "Okay. And this is the lab, you found it, huh, pretty clever. What were you planning on doing in here?"

"Ask? And get assigned to come in after class? No thanks."

She hummed, "I can give you something better to do in class. Bored or not, you're not walking out on me, Stark."

"But I like this setup!" He gestured around. "This place was a dump. Everything in here is here because of me. I am doing research. Blisterpit balm--cause I accidentally cast it on someone the other day and I might have been persuaded to feel guilty by Bruce Banner because he's such a softy."

Beilschmidt began to walk around the lab, examining. "Yeah? So what's your thinking?" Beilschmidt leaned beside him, her eyes flickering still to Caoimhe. Tony had repeated perfect scores on all his potions and essays so far in her class, she was curious to see just how far he could push himself.

"Dragonscale, wormwood and white cap. Wormwood to be the cleaning agent, dragonscale powder to regrow the flesh and white cap to make it resistant to cellular breakdown," he said, eyeing her.

Beilschmidt raised her eyebrows. "... impressive. That might just work." It would work, actually, she was certain so long as he got proportions of the mixture right. "This is something I'd pass to seventh year theory work, Stark."

"Tell me about it," Tony sighed, scowling. "So forgive me if I just don't want to bother with making some second-rate sleepiness potion."

Her hand came down on his head and ruffled his hair. "Tch, okay I got your point. We'll work on this, you'll get your own private assignments in classes from now on. Actually maybe I could bump you up a year or two." She rubbed her chin. "Let me think on it. Chat to the headmaster. And this!" Beilschmidt threw her arm around at the space, "The fact that it'd be a damn shame to waste the potential having this place gives you is the only reason I'm not calling it in, okay? And you have to share with me." she grinned.

"That would be fine with me," Tony said. "I can share....just no narking. No one likes a snitch. Snitches get stitches. I know that little mousy kid Steve gets beat up a lot. Thought maybe i could help him too. Not from me, you understand. Bruce said it was a good idea."

Beilschmidt stood up straight. "All right, now you," she said, pointing at the vampire. "Tony here seems to trust you, should I do the same?"

Caoimhe watched her. "Do you trust Tony?" She asked in return but then relented. "He was able to reconstruct the synthetic blood the researchers left behind--with only one bottle as a sample. I will not harm him. Or anyone that he sees as friend."

Beilschmidt ruffled Stark's hair again, ignoring his scowl. "Okay." She nodded. "Okay. To both of you. Cause no harm and we can all get along." She let out a low breath. "Risking my neck for you so let's make it worthwhile. I've got to go back to class now but later you're going to show me this blood synthetic you made."

She went to move to the door and then pointed at Tony, "And stop skipping classes! I'll talk to the other teachers about your boredom, but no more skipping."

"Oh, come _on_."


	3. Fourth Year Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bullies in the wizarding world would be walking horrors

Halloween came upon them in a flurry of activity. At least a week proceeding, the school was buzzing with decorations and creepy music. The ghosts, who relished this night as theirs, put extra effort into surprising as many of the mortals as they could (and several were keeping tallies for some sort of contest of their own). All students were encouraged to dress up, and the night of, eat the Halloween feast, and then go through the haunted house in the basement. While not overly common in England, Tony had presented the idea to Beilschmidt as a fun novelty. She adored the idea and gave Tony most of the reigns. Steve did not dress up. He never had--no money for costumes. He put on his robe, eager to find Bucky and Charlotte. "Haunted dungeons?" He grinned.

"Haunted dungeon!" Bucky yelled loudly, causing heads to turn as Charlotte laughed and hung onto Steve's arm. Taking Steve's other side, Bucky pulled them along, looking for their other friends along the way. Beilschmidt's work was evident in the creeping mists and ghoulish smoke that filled the corridors.

Steve smiled, looking at Charlotte on his left arm, Buck on his right. He smiled at them. His friends. Real and honest to God friends. They laughed at the real ghosts, mostso at the fake ones. "Hey, there's Bruce!" Steve cried, pointing.

Bruce was behind a sheet of glass, peeling a fake snake by its flesh. He shook fake blood and guts at them, grinning.

"You know we have tons of stories about mad muggle scientists that will take you away if you're bad. Like a....a...boogeyman, I think they call it on your side?"

Steve laughed.

Thor was there too, his booming voice and intimidating physique helped as he chased students down a corridor dressed up as a ghoul. And Tony, no longer restricted to the first year class--he got to stand around and be proud of himself--which he was incredibly good at.

"And now--we have the poltergeist~! Feared in German folklore! From the suburbs of America to the stale coffins of the European countryside!" That was Micah Licorice talking. "New victims appear for the slaughter!"

The lights went out. The people around them screamed, laughing. When they came back on, Charlotte was gone. "Charlotte!" Steve called, laughing. "Part of the tour, right? She'll be at the end or something?" He asked Bucky.

"Better look for her, lads. Never know how much blood she can lose~!" Micah's voice boomed, menacing.

They were forced into single-file down a very narrow hall--boom! Petrifying spells struck from all directions. For the wizard-born, this was not a surprise. As it could be scary to be frozen and then have some masked people lurk over you until it wore off, it was a done trick in wizarding tours like this.

On account of his small size however, and being pressed up against Bucky's broader back, Steve miraculously was missed. "Haha!" He said, grinning triumphantly and knelt to unfreeze Bucky. "For once my shortness works to my advantage! Actually, you know--I kinda like you like this. You're quiet for once. It's--"

Above his head, behind him, the wall opened. Horizon met Bucky's eyes and winked.

Bucky's heart almost stopped--watching Horizon open the wall, unable to express anything, say anything. Cold fear--then hot fury stole through him--no matter how hard he struggled, he was locked in place.

Horizon licked his upper lip, pulled down the mask, grabbed Steve by the back of his robe and yanked him into the door in the wall.

 

 

 

Steve lurched up. "Hey--what gives--!" He stopped, the masked one putting a finger to his lips, making Steve go cross-eyed to watch it.

"Shhhh. You'll make it angry."

"What?"

"The poltergeist, Rogers."

"Oh, right. Um....this is part of the tour, then?" Steve relaxed a bit.

"Oh yes. Come," said the masked person. And even though this was play, this was a tour, it still felt weird when the masked one touched his back. Starting from the small of it, sliding up to his shoulders. He twitched, hunching them silently, not liking the chill that went up his bony spine.

"You are so thin, Steve. Thin and bony. Too bony Steve. Too damn bony." They stopped in front of a red light.

Strangely, all Steve could think was: _Too damn bony. Zamboni. I guess instead of mopping this floor you zamboni it._ Where had he heard that line--Mystery Science Theater, wasn't it?

"You aren't dressed up, Rogers," someone murmured, hot and breathy in his ear. He jumped, fists balling up and shoulders hunching.

The tall one in front of him and now one was behind him. Someone touched the bones in his back again, slowly counting out the knobs of his spine. "Do you like ghosts, Rogers?"

"....I...um...I like stories?"

"Then be quiet. Oh, so very quiet, Rogers. Don't make any sound at all."

And they pushed him. He fell off the platform and into some kind of small room.

"Hey!" he yelled up. "HEY!"

Horizon looked down, lifted his mask. "Have fun, pipsqueak." He winked and closed the cover.

Steve swallowed hard. He couldn't reach the catch when he tried to jump. And then he felt something.

Something ice cold. Of course. The poltergeist. He must be in the safe. The safe was part of the poltergeist display. There was a recording of screams from inside of the safe--as if someone were trapped in it with a poltergeist...

He felt his stomach drop. "Oh...."

The tape recording was stopped. The tape recording's screams stopped.

But tour-goers would not be disappointed. It was just a moment before they started again.

 

 

 

Finally, some of the fifth years came up to murmur the counter-jinx to everyone. Bucky lunged to his feet the moment he could. "Where are they!"

"Who?" the fifth year asked him.

"Steve and Charlotte, where are they! Someone took them!" Bucky shoved past them, looking frantically. And then raced back through the displays, passing the Burning Man, the Poltergeist in the Safe, to the Mad Muggle Scientist. He saw Bruce, "Bruce! Bruce those assholes took Steve and I think Charlotte too! You gotta help me!"

Bruce blinked behind the glass. He looked out into the hall and hopped down from the platform "What? Why! Where were you?" When Bucky told him, he groaned. "Of course...there are four doors going behind the scenes. One leads to a dressing room, the other three to backstage units. The first one on the left will also take you around to the safe--where they have the recorded screams."

Bucky didn't wait for him, he just ran, pushing himself as fast as he could go, throwing open doors. "Steve! Steve!" The screams, they didn't sound right, they sounded like--"STEVE!"

Bruce went in the other direction. He heard running. He could hear Charlotte, throwing insults behind her at one of Horizon's cronies. Bruce dodged around a black wall to intervene, scooping Charlotte up and putting her behind him. He grabbed Woodward and promptly beat the stuffing out of him.

"Bruce!" She cried out, hiccuping fearfully. Charlotte sank down out of relief.

 

 

 

There was a poltergeist and it was not pleased. Steve's face was bruised and scratched and bleeding. There were purple bruises around his wrists, skinny ankles. But the yells were choking off. He couldn't fight something that he couldn't see or grab. He scrambled at his throat, but felt nothing but compressing air, horrible, choking.

Bucky rammed his shoulder into the safe, cursed himself and remembered his wand, using it to get the damn thing open. He reached inside hauled the tiny boy out. "Steve!" he cried, holding him to his chest in an embrace.

That seemed to break the connection, Steve took a horrible rattling gasp. He clung to Bucky and kicked out with his shoe to slam the safe's side door shut. His eyes were wide. He twitched, looking up at Bucky. "Are you real?" he croaked.

Bucky hugged him tightly, rocking back and forth, "Of course I'm real, course I am." He ran his fingers over his hair. "Holy shit, are you okay?"

"There was something in there, Buck...." he murmured. He grit his teeth. "Sorry--I didn't use a jinx. I didn't recognize them with their masks on. They pushed me in. I'll kill them. I will--I swear to God!" He had to stop then, head spinning and dizzy.

"It's okay. Gonna get you fixed up." He touched the safe door again, as if to ensure it was still closed. "Don't you worry about that, you don't have to do that. You got me," he whispered. He maneuvered Steve onto his back to carry him out.

"Let me down," Steve demanded. "I wanna find those guys and teach them a lesson. I want to fight!"

"Don't worry. I'll do it for you," Bucky told him. "I'm about to go find them and unleash some Slytherin hell. You wait and see, they'll regret ever even looking at you."

"I don't want _you_ to do it! I want to it!"

"Shut up, you little jerk. You're all messed up."

 

 

 

Bruce waited with Charlotte until he saw Bucky. "Buck--Steve's--is he all right...?" Something in his face quieted, sadder when he saw the marks. "Let's take him to Tony's lab." He removed the Mad Muggle Scientist gloves as he led the way.

They headed to their secret hideout, Bucky gently putting Steve down on a table.

Steve breathed hard and fast but his anger had faded to a resigned frustration. As the adrenaline seeped from him, he sunk down, lying back and eyes drifting closed. Bruce didn't say anything, just came up to him and looked him over. "I think he's passed out."

"For the best. He hates the infirmary," Bucky grumbled, a hand on Steve's shoulder.

"Was there a real poltergeist in that safe with him?" Bruce asked, dabbing at Steve's gashed face. 

"I... I think so...I mean, shit, look at him." Bucky scowled, crossing his arms.

Bruce reached out to steady him. "You didn't know. That was a pretty well thought-out thing they did. No one would have expected that. They took Charlotte first to make you think it was normal. I wonder where they got another poltergeist. Peeves isn't really the type to get violent on students."

Caoimhe ghosted up to them. "There is a great deal of screaming right now."

"Haunted tour in the dungeons," Bruce told her.

"No--it's different now. Real fear. The God Brothers seem to have taken an interest in you all."

Charlotte clutched her hands together tightly. "The God brothers?"

"You mean Loki and Thor?" Bruce asked her, glancing sidelong at her as he spread a salve over the gashes and watching Steve's skin sew itself together. "They are descended from a family said to have once been members of the Viking pantheons."

Charlotte furrowed her eyebrows. "Why would they get involved?"

Bruce shrugged a little. "Thor is quick to jump to the aid of others. Calls it his duty and honor and other old-timey words. Girls think it's charming. Loki is more reserved--uh--Chaotic Neutral, I guess. Might save your life, might steal your broomstick. He could go either way."

She bit her lip lightly. "I... well, if they helped us then I'm grateful. If those boys will leave Steve alone so much the better."

Caoimhe raised her eyebrows. " _I_ could take care of them."

"You need to stay here," Bruce said, leveling his eyes at her. "You can't just go and eat students."

Caoimhe sighed, snorting in disgust and went to get a blood pack.

"Yeah," Charlotte said quickly. "None of us should risk getting into trouble over those idiots."

Steve came back around just then. "Buck..." he murmured hazily and then jumped up, "BUCK! Charlotte! They grabbed her! Is she okay!?"

Bucky bristled. "They coulda killed hi--" his head jerked at the same time Steve woke, reaching out to grab Steve's shoulder.

"I'm okay, Steve! I'm here!" Charlotte went to his side, soothing him gently.

Steve had latched onto Bucky's shirt, grabbing him. He sighed in relief when he saw Charlotte. "Are you okay? Did they hurt you?"

"No, no. He didn't hurt me. I bit him and ran away," she said gently.

They heard a strange knocking, Loki unlocked the door with his magic and they came in. "Greetings," said Loki. "Excuse the interruption. Thor's Hammer led us here."

"Don't mind us. We saw what happened to your tiny friend. We thought we would come and tell you that four boys are currently out cold at the moment. They are not so tiny but they are less brave."

Bucky braced his palm on Steve's spine. "This secret hideout's becoming less secret all the time," he grumbled, eyeing the other Slytherin boy and his Gryffindor brother.

"I don't plan to tell anyone," Loki said, meeting Bucky's eyes. "I like secrets."

"I bet you do." Bucky allowed a lopsided smile at the other boy, eyeing him. He believed him. Loki would like the secret and maybe like something to hold over their heads if it ever came to that. 

"It is my hope they have learned better of their intentions," Thor said, looking around with interest.

"Guess you're in the club now," Bruce said.

Steve got up. "Hey, Thor and Loki--just ignore Bucky--he's just in a bad mood. Thanks." He held out a hand.

"You are so tiny," Thor said again, looking amused as he grabbed Steve's whole arm and shook it.

Loki shrugged. "Indeed." He shook Steve's hand next but slower.

 The door opened again, Tony was there, looking affronted. "I expected you all to come to my haunted dungeon and you're all up here! What is this!" He held up bags. "Also, I brought food."

Thor turned, "Ah, you are Stark!"

"Those four bullies did something horrid to Steve," Charlotte explained to Tony. "He got really hurt."

"I didn't," Steve argued. "I'm fine."

"What! And who are you?" he asked Thor.

"I am Thor Odinson, and this is my brother, Loki." Thor answered with a wide grin on his face, completely missing Tony's irritation. "That's a fine feast."

Tony went right on, "What! At my dungeon! They must have been working in that Kettleton's section. Useless! Getting goons like them to volunteer! I'll show them what it means to make enemies with Tony Stark!" He put down the sacks of food. Butterbeer, pies, tarts, candy and a ham. He marched right up to Steve as, no doubt, he'd seen his father do. "Allow me to apologize for the stupidity of certain people within this organization. I will take personal strides to rectify this abhorrent situation and kill them with lasers."

"I'll...be all right...I'm fine," he grumbled. "But thanks, Tony."

"James," said Bruce. "Why don't you take Steve back to one of the redone cells---there's a bed back there. He can rest."

Bucky looked up and nodded. "Yeah... c'mon Steve," he said, pulling him over to him. Bucky put an arm under Steve's, half-carrying him to the rooms, despite his exhausted protests.

Bruce crossed his arms, watching them leave. "Maybe this will make them reconsider their constant harassment."

Loki looked thoughtful. "Either that or it will get worse, I suppose."

"They think with the wrong head."

Bruce blinked and slowly looked at Tony.

"What? My dad says it all the time about those sleazy business guys he meets."

Bruce met eyes with Thor and chuckled. "That may be one you might want to forego."

Charlotte blinked, cocking her head in confusion. "What's it mean?"

"Nothing important," Thor said, guffawing and grinning back at Bruce. "Tis nothing to worry over for you."

"Eh--just means the other guy is an idiot or something."

"Sort of. Nevermind," Bruce said again, fighting his smile.

She wrinkled up her nose and finally took a sip of her butterbeer. "Well, he is one of those."

 

 

 

Bucky carefully laid him on the cot. "We'll hide out here for the night, why the hell not."

"Buck, I'm sorry--I ruin everything. I'm sorry. I'll do better. I will. I'm sorry."

"Shut up," he snorted, leaning back in a chair and putting his hands behind his head. "Were you like, 'hey guys come beat me up, that sounds awesome!', no you weren't. Not your fault, don't even do that."

"Dammit," he said quietly. "I..." He looked down at Bucky's shirt.

Bucky ruffled his hair. "It's not your fault that they're stupid, Steve. Just them being jerks, so... fuck them," he said the swear with a nervous sort of voice, and then conviction. "There's nothing wrong with you."

"I know there is....I know that so much is wrong. I hate it." There was a small crack in Steve's voice, letting the wall down a little, eyes hot with frustration and rage. Emotionally vulnerable--that he always stubbornly hid, since he was constantly physically vulnerable. "Next time I'll curse his stupid nose off."

"No!" Bucky said hotly, "No, there's not. Who cares if you're small, who cares if you get sick. You're a cool guy, Steve, I like you.

"It's not--it matters to them. It matters to me! I don't--"

"Hey, no, it's okay." His hand rubbed over Steve's back. "Things are gonna be okay, I'm gonna make them okay. You watch. Me an' you, we're a team now."

"....thank you, Bucky. I dunno what you see in me--but I'm glad you do."

"You gotta trust me..." Bucky told him, moving to sit next to him on the mattress. "'Kay? I know you're a guy worth keeping."

Steve looked down. He was a drain on his mother in every way. She never said it, of course, but he wasn't stupid. He didn't feel worth anything. "...I don't like bullies," he said, quietly. "So, at least, there's that."

"That's something. I don't know how to explain it, just knew the moment you went to try on that dumb hat that there was a whole damn forest fire burning in your gut."

It was so strange to be enveloped, shielded by Buck's stockier, warm body. He was always so frail, so cold. He was usually adverse to being touched because to be touched meant to be hurt. But this wasn't like that. Soft, warm touches, gentle. "I was so suspicious of you, at first," Steve suddenly admitted. "I'm sorry. I just...was afraid you were trying to trick me. But...I, well--you stuck with it. So we gotta keep a running tab so I know how many guys to take out for you." 

Bucky laughed softly. "Pal, you don't owe me nothing. You just gotta shine my shoes sometimes. My ma says I'm always kind of bullheaded, set my sights on somethin' and keep pushing for it till I get it." He shook his head.

Steve chuckled. "Some girl'll be lucky to get your eye when you're older."

"Tch, I guess. Girls can wait though." He patted Steve's hair. "You better rest."

Steve ended up dozing off against him, sleeping fitfully with his ever-present wheeze.

 

 

 

Bucky was as good as his word. He and Steve were best friends, the very best. Nothing would come between them and it didn't, not then and not over the next three years.

Not only were they best friends at school but Bucky invited Steve over during the summer holidays too, introducing him to his family and running round their big townhouse or taking trips to Diagon alley to sit outside the ice-cream shop. He gave Steve Christmas presents and was at his side at every moment possible, anytime outside separate lessons or when curfew forced them to their house dorms.

They had Charlotte and Tony and Bruce, the Odinsons inserted themselves into the group easily. Caoimhe stayed their secret friend and Professor Beilschmidt their secret guardian, allowing them their hideout and keeping an eye on Tony's ever growing ambitions.

Hogwarts was the life as far as Bucky was concerned, growing taller every day. His shoulders broadened and he stood head and shoulder above Steve now. He didn't mind that, even maybe liked it a little (though he'd never admit it), clapping Steve on his shoulder.

Girls were starting to become more noticeable to all of them. Girls in their year shooting up and filling out ahead of the boys. Bucky, with his charming words and easy smile found himself negotiating their tricky waters with comparative ease to most of the other boys. Charlotte rolled her eyes at it all, saved from his attentions after having firmly established herself in the sisterly role to him and Steve. Bucky got himself onto the Slytherin Quidditch team by second year. He took on the role of a Beater with Liam O'Connor and loved it. He was showoff at the worst times, brilliant at the best. It helped with his silent competition against Tony, as the girls loved him for his daring escapades on the pitch.

Tony saw Bucky as a challenger, of course, per usual. They competed in many things. But girls--Tony was determined. He was not as tall nor as broad as Bucky but with his do-or-die confidence, his dark eyes, dark hair and status as crazy inventor--he had plenty of tools to work with.

Bruce noticed girls, of course....but given what he was, he never spoke to any of them. Always afraid...

And Steve...well. He was still very short. And very thin and frail. Still sickly, always cold. He resented it and he hated it but there was nothing he could do. He noticed girls in sort of an abstract way. Knowing they were not meant for him--but for the handsome, big, broad-shouldered ones: Thor, Tony and Bucky...confidence, strength and talent. And then ones like Loki--mysterious and cunning. Steve encouraged Bucky to go on dates though--he wanted his friend to be happy. And so, in an attempt to distract himself, he joined the Quidditch team. He rarely (never) got to play--he was the backup Seeker. But it allowed him to go to practices and work with his broom. He studied, worked hard...and was frustratingly average. He would wander to the astronomy tower and help Professor Honda map star charts while Bucky was out with girls. Honda was a wealth of knowledge on folklore and old stories about the constellations. He liked them a lot. That was when Professor Honda happened to glance at his notebook when he thought she was in her office.

"Rogers...did you draw these freehand?"

Steve jumped and looked away. "Oh, uh. Sorry--I didn't--I thought you were in your office. I...um--I just, get ideas in my head."

"They're the characters from the stories, aren't they? About the constellations?"

"Yes, professor...sorry."

"Don't be. You have a talent, Rogers. You should use it."

So he made diagrams and star charts for Professor Honda's younger classes, which helped him hone his skill.

For a very short time, he had nursed a crush on Charlotte. But he never told her or anyone else--not even Bucky, because he knew the answer was no. And shortly thereafter, she established herself as sisterly. So it was all for the best.

 

 

 

Fourth year finally rolled around and they all met up on the train together.

"I got an owl!" Charlotte said and excitedly showed him off to the group. She lived on a farm with her parents and so cats and dogs were nothing new, an owl however was brilliant! "His name's Pip."

"He's very handsome," Bruce told her. He and Thor, now in their 5th year, towered above her. Thor was the tallest among them. Loki slid in and raised a hand in greeting.

"Isn't he?" She beamed up at them delightedly. "Hi Loki." She waved back at him.

Loki smiled--he often could look sinister when he smiled--but they now knew the difference. He bowed over his arm to the owl.

Pip hooted softly, his cage door open and hopped lightly onto Loki's arm. "Oh, he likes you." Charlotte smiled.

Loki smiled at the owl and lightly stroked his feathers. "He is very wise," he said.

Bucky leaned over Steve, all long legs and elbows by this point and shuffling through an exploding snap deck. "The hell is Stark at?"

"He's getting on the train right now," Steve said quietly. "Surprised he doesn't request his own car."

"Oh hi," Stark called, taking off his sunglasses when he entered the car. "Noticed that there wasn't enough class in this car back here!"

"Enough low class?" Bucky said, grinning now. "Because you brought it."

Tony scoffed. "It's still painfully clear that I am the only one who knows how to dress around here. You run at least thirteen kisses behind me, Jamie."

"Hah! I've had a whole summer to get ahead, Stark, you don't know what you're talking about." Bucky brushed his hair back. "Nice fuzz face by the way."

"Oh, and just how many lady pitbulls did you find to give you a lick?" Tony laughed. "Jealousy is unbecoming of you, James."

"Got a whole five! Suck on it, Stark," he snorted. "Don't call me James."

"A whole five. Goodness, the neighbors must be afraid to let their dogs outside, Jamie~"

"Ha ha, funny Stark!" Bucky rolled his eyes, "How many did you pay to kiss you?"

"I took them on proper dates. You should try it sometime. Being a gentleman and everything."

 Bruce turned around from their good-natured bickering and spoke quietly, "Steve?"

The boy looked up.

"You're kind of quiet...you all right?"

Steve nodded and looked back out the window.

"How was the summer? Sounds like everyone else went traveling."

Steve glanced up at him, then back down. His eyes darkened. "It was okay," he said and looked back out the window.

Bruce kept half an eye on him as he turned to Thor. "Loki told me that there was a girl you found."

Thor grinned. "Indeed! She is most beautiful and intelligent too!"

Bruce smiled. "I know some girls who will be sad to hear that. But I'm happy for you, Thor."

"Thank you, my friend. I am a most fortunate now. I do not wish for any other but her."

"I'll have Loki break the news." Bruce smiled.

Bucky glanced at Steve. "You didn't write much," he said.

Steve looked at him and shrugged. "Sorry--got distracted."

"You sure?" Bucky's voice softened. 

Steve shook his head. "It's okay. Everything was pretty much normal."

Spent the first month with bronchitis, into pneumonia, into strep again, fever. But that was normal for him. What bothered him was that, well, his mother seemed a little off. But he wasn't exactly sure what. He watched out the window, listless. They were all to head in for the feast, the opening. Tony jumped at Barnes' head, rubbing knuckles in his hair. Thor, Tony, Bucky, even reserved Bruce, even detached Loki....laughing, chatting. Growing taller, healthier, stronger...

Steve slipped away, skipping the ceremony and going up to his room.

Loki broke the news to the Slytherin table. Some laughs went around, catcalls.

Except Annalise, now a sixth year, who said, "What?! He did! Dammit."

"Story of your life, Anna."

"Shut the fuck up, Liam."

After making his customary rude gesture at Pierce and his gang, Bucky had looked over from the Slytherin table, teeth in his bottom lip. Something was up, he just wasn't sure what. Steve had gone to the dorms already. Bucky huffed and sat beside Loki, quietly brooding about it.

Charlotte could be a little more practical. She attended the feast but wrapped up bread rolls in napkins to keep them warm and carried them to the Hufflepuff dorms afterwards, going into the boys' dorm to seek out Steve. "Hey."

He sat up. "Charlotte--hey, what's up? Everything okay?"

"I was going to ask you that. How come you didn't come to the feast?" She offered him out the warm bread rolls. "Thought you might be hungry."

"Oh, uh, tired," he said with a sigh. "Just tired." He took the rolls. "Thank you. Anything interesting happen?"

"Just the usual." Charlotte perched on Steve's bed. "The hat sang a song and they sorted all the first years." She looked at him. "Seems like ages since our sorting, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, guess so. Everyone has come really far."

She smiled. "Fourth year! You know this is the year we can go to the Yule Ball at Christmas? That'll be fun."

He half-smiled. "Yeah. I bet. You'll be like a little pixie. Boys won't be able to stay away."

"No, come on, Steve." She shook her head, smiling at him. "You flatterer."

He snorted. "They like you, duh. If you don't get asked by one of the others first, someone will."

"There's other prettier girls than me," she said, smiling still, shifting to lean against him. "But thanks. If girls have any sense they'll be after you too."

He gave her a look, self-depreciating but honest. "Don't say stuff like that. I'm telling the truth--you're trying to make me feel better. It's okay, Charlotte. I'm fully aware of how that will work out."

Her face softened. "I mean it, if they had any sense. You're a good guy, Steve. Always have been, you always tried to protect me and help me. Bucky thinks you're the world... you know that, don't you?"

He shrugged, looking away a little. "Bucky is a good person. It's not like I blame anyone--I mean, I'm never going to look like Thor or Tony or Bucky or Loki. It's just how things are."

"Looks aren't the most important thing." She tried to put her head on his shoulder but he leaned away. "People will see it."

"Yeah, but that's the initial catch. I'm not stupid, Charlotte. And I don't resent them--I mean, c'mon. When Bucky and I stand next to each other--who looks like the one that can protect someone. I don't even really notice girls that much as it is. It's not a big deal. I want them to have fun, enjoy themselves. Tony and Bucky have so much fun competing with each other."

"I just want you to know you're a worthwhile guy, Steve. I wouldn't trade you for the world, no matter what anyone else thinks."

He smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Charlie. You're kind."

"It's my greatest strength." She smiled. "When danger shows I'll be sweet and defeat all the bad guys with it."

That night, Steve didn't sleep, writing a letter to his mother.

 

 

 

Tony sauntered up to Beilschmidt. "Hey....I hear that you are the one making the Wolfsbane potion for Bruce. Now, I'm not gonna say I'm a better brewer--only that you are the better teacher. And I think that I could manage it if you'd teach it to me."

Beilschmidt raised an eyebrow. "Lucky I like you or I'd have to magic off that nose of yours for sticking it into things, Stark." She turned though and was grinning. "I think that was half a compliment. You and Banner are good friends, right?"

"Yeah, well--we're all right. I'm sure I look after him more than he looks after me," Tony said, waving a hand dismissively.

"Uh huh." Beilschmidt smiled. "Well okay, I guess you can be my assistant in that. Wolfsbane's one of the most complicated potions there is, it takes a whole month to brew. You mess up even one part and you get a raging werewolf instead of a in-control one. Bring your A-game, Stark." She flicked his forehead playfully, despite the fact he about matched her in height now.

"You will find my A-game sufficient, Professor. I may even be able to improve it."

"Heh, report to me Saturday evening and we'll make a start on next month's batch."

"Of course," Tony said thoughtfully, that depends on the activating agent in the werewolf condition. Vitamin D is absorbed by the body through sunlight. But the moon's light is just a reflection of the sun. So it may be a matter of the polar axis of the Earth--and then magnetic fields interacting to unbalance some sort of chemical in the blood. It must be a type of virus...or a venom that werewolves carry. If only a bite can change a person--not the exchange of other bodily fluids--then it stands to reason that it is something specifically related to digestion or molecular and cellular corruption and break down. Like a snake or a spider. But you really only find that in reptiles, insects, arachnids--almost no mammals. In fact, i can't think of any--except a werewolf. So what is to say that a werewolf's saliva is not some type of acid--unknown and unproduced by the human body--possibly a mutation--like that one that makes certain kinds of fish glow in the dark but only when a blacklight is shown on them. If that is true...then Banner should have a different chemical make-up when he's a werewolf--ugh! WHY doesn't this place have more science! I'll make my own testing equipment," he grumbled, turning around to go find Bruce.

Beilschmidt laughed at him, though she'd listened with good grace and interest. "Science by another name is magic, Stark." The wizarding world wouldn't know what hit it when this kid finished Hogwarts. "Believe it or not we've been working to figure these things out for centuries. Don't be late."

"Tch--then the students here are idiots because they seem to think that Muggle science is useless. Just wait until I figure it out for you all."

 

 

 

Classes began again.

Bucky was Steve's partner in all things possible. They shared classes in Potions and Defense against the Dark Arts. And after third year they had chosen their elective classes too.

Charlotte had gone straight for Care of Magical Creatures and, with amusement, Divination. Bucky had decided to do Muggle Studies ("With you, Lottie and Stark I can't fail!") and Care of Magical Creatures too.

Steve went through each day, listless. Charms became his primary focus--Magical Creatures gave him hives, allergic reactions and he wasn't strong enough to control them. He was, at least, okay at Charms. He received a letter from his mother in October. It was strange, rambling, almost incoherent--no grammar awareness, very little punctuation. He got up from the table at the Great Hall to take it outside to read it again.

"Hey, Steve." Bucky walked up, hands stuffed in his robes. "What you got?"

"You didn't need to follow me. It's just a letter," Steve said, a little tersely. "From my mother..."

 

_Steve,_

_you should know your mother loves you. Even these days when i sit back and feel the heat in my lungs and know how you must have felt. should have told you more about your father. i will someday. his things are still here in the attic and the basement. he never came for them. i may be able to find you a new wand. with his things. he took it with him when he left. steve i know things between us aren't always good but dont run away. don leave like your father and not come back. he died which is a good excuse. but you are so weak. frail...everything he wasn't. you'll die. without friends. do you have friends? did you make any. i sent you there last year thinking they could care for you. can't we use that magic to help ourselves too--but you are underage--how stupid. they never had much sense, those wizards. someone is knocking--tell me how the summer is there, steve_

_love  
sarah_

 

Steve stared at the letter. Her usual slanted cursive was skewed, as if her hands were shaking. He knew the look--as he often had it. She had never once signed a letter with her first name. Something was wrong with her. "I...need to go see Professor Braginski," he said quietly, still staring at the letter. He turned to go, heading down the hallway.

Bucky leaned over, trying to look and catching glimpses. "You alright? Is something wrong?" He followed at Steve's heels.

Steve glanced at him and then forward. "It's fine--I just...I think my mother is sick," he finally admitted.

"... that sucks." Bucky said after a moment, slinging his arm around Steve and pulling him into his side. "She'll get better though, right?"

He looked at the letter, kept looking at where she had signed her name _sarah_ , instead of _Mom_. "...well, I tend to. So maybe she will...but she's alone. I want to ask Braginski if I can go see her. This is...this letter--it's all wrong."

"Well, of course they'll let you!" he said, nodding. "Bet your mum just needs a big pick-me-up from you," Bucky said in an earnest attempt at reassurance. "They could Floo you right home. Maybe it's just flu or somethin'."

"Yeah..." he murmured. He did not miss the irony in the situation. He went to the professor and Bucky sat with him while he allowed Braginski to read the letter and then explained why it seemed so wrong, pleading to be allowed to go and check on her.

"Mister Barnes is correct--we can connect your house temporarily to the Floo network--or a portkey. I will take the request to the Headmaster right now and be back. Wait here."

Bucky shuffled up against Steve again once the professor was gone. "You gonna be okay going? Maybe I could argue to let them let me come with," he said.

"No, you don't have to follow me around all the time. She's my mother. I'll check on her myself," Steve said, a little tersely as he frowned down at the letter. "...her hands were shaking when she wrote this. I know because...mine do so much...."

"Hey..." Bucky tucked Steve in against him. "It's going to be alright, your mum'll be fine. You'll see. And hey, if she's sick she can go to St. Mungo's, it's the best hospital in the world."

Steve shrugged his arm off, feeling suddenly uncomfortable with Bucky's penchant for closeness. And then, something occurred to him. "How did she even send this? She's a normal person, no magic. We don't have an owl..." He opened the letter again, checked the envelope. She had not written a date. The postmark was from a month ago and indicated that it had gone through a regular post office and then must have eventually made its way to an owl or a wizard or something.

This could have been sent ages ago. He felt his stomach turn, the feeling of dread growing.

 

 

 

Professor Braginski reappeared. He would connect his fireplace to Steve's basement. Allow him to go through and then expect an update within the hour about his mother. The Ministry had to keep careful watch over these Floo ports, after all.

Steve got up, holding onto the letter tightly.

He had never traveled by Floo. It warped and spun him and spat him out. Their fireplace was not much more than a tiny hearth. He sprawled in old ash before getting up. His chest wheezed and he stumbled, going upstairs. "Mom?" he called.

There was no answer.

"M-Mom!" he called again, scattering ash everywhere. He hurried back to her bedroom and stopping. A sound clawed from his throat--halfway between a moan and a cry. " _No..._ "

She was there. Her face was bloody, as were the sheets and blankets. He went to her. "Mom!"

She didn't answer. She was dead.

Steve stared at her, frozen in time with her corpse looking up at him through bloodshot eyes. He forgot about the hour check-in mark. He forgot school, studying, everything else. He touched the smears of blood dried brown-red to her face. TB? From the hospital maybe, where she worked as a nurse. Couldn't shake it. Couldn't shake it.

Couldn't shake it.

He had shaken so much--because of her. And he....had not been here when she...tried to...

Couldn't shake it.


	4. Not Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating jump because kids grow up and they start experimenting.

Steve was sitting on the side of his mother's bed, holding her hand. He didn't even hear Bucky come through the fireplace an hour later. His eyes dripped, beads sliding down onto her cold skin, the bloody sheets, his too-thin hands.

"Ste--holy shit!" Then Bucky clamped his jaw shut. He was such a fucking idiot, such a loud mouth shit-for-brains idiot. "Steve..." he said softly, biting his lip. He came closer so slowly, "Steve." His hand reached out, almost chickened out, then touched his friend's shoulder.

Steve took a breath. "She's..." he swallowed. "She..." he closed his mouth, shook his head and screwed his eyes shut.

"Oh Jesus, oh Stevie, I'm so sorry, I'm so..." he trembled and just... just... he looked away from that pale, too still face, focusing on his friend.

"She died _alone_ ," he said--and that was what seemed to break it for him. His head sunk. His tiny body curling in on itself.

"I....shit, Steve, I'm sorry," he repeated, feeling lost. "I--I'll go tell Braginski. Don't leave, okay? Stay here." He got up, pulling himself away. Steve did not react. Bucky turned and hurried back.

Professor Braginski soon came through himself, Bucky at his heels. His eyes took in the scene, quiet and turned away. He called the authorities for Steve and acted as the barrier between him and the police.

 

 

 

When they came to remove the body--Steve tried to jerk them away--and then managed to stop himself. It had to be done. It must...

He pulled his hands away, pulling into himself, drawing in, close the windows, sit in the dark, watch them wrap his mother's body in that horrible sheet and move it from the room. Someone approached, pricking his arm, advising him something about--if it swelled, go to the hospital.

He knew that speech--TB test, his static mind supplied automatically.

"What's going to happen?" Bucky asked Braginski, "What's going to happen to him? He doesn't have any other family, he said so. He's going to come back, isn't he?"

"We will discuss that with Rogers. He will be allowed to finish out the year. I will speak to the headmaster and the other Heads of Houses. For now, Barnes--you should return to the school."

"But... Steve... he shouldn't be alone!"

"No, he shouldn't...but there is not much to be done for that. He must arrange his mother's burial..." Braginski looked towards the hallway, where Steve was still sitting in his mother's room. "...and no one here is family."

"I'm his family! Good as he's got!" Bucky burst out.

Braginski looked at him a long moment. "Then go back, speak to your head of house--and the headmaster. Only they can give you permission. And inform your friends too."

Bucky nodded, "I will." He dashed to Steve's side, "I gotta... I gotta go, but I'll be back, I promise." He hugged him and then went to the fireplace.

 

 

 

Seconds later he flew from Braginski's office and charged down towards Beilschmidt's, hammering on the door until she let him in, talking so fast she literally had to cover his mouth and tell him to slow down. Beilschmidt listened with a frown to everything he said. "Barnes--I'll talk to the headmaster and your parents, you should write to them too. We'll see what we can do."

Steve Rogers, what a horrible thing to happen to a good kid. She went to see the headmaster.

Bucky begged Charlotte the use of Pip and, of course, ended up explaining the entire thing. Soon enough it had circulated their entire group.

Tony scoffed. "Tch! Not let him stay--that's stupid. Look, I'm about to break through with this Wolfsbane garbage. When I patent it--he can have the stupid money. It's not like I need it. Then he'll be able to come back. So there." Tony told them.

 

 

Back at home, Steve did not move for a long time. When he finally became aware of himself again, he make himself get up, feeling faintly numb and dizzy. He threw up in the bathroom. He somehow got the bloody sheets off the bed and took them outside. He burned them.

And then a complex mess of bills, insurance, the house, all of it. He felt overwhelmed. His heart kept missing beats.

The funeral was arranged--that was the easiest legally and the most difficult in every other way. He had no idea who to invite. The funeral home put it in the obituaries.

Sitting alone in his house was maddening. Three days of waiting for them to find a place to bury her. Looking at her things, smelling her vanilla candles. Every moment, she'd spent praying with her rosary by his bed when he was sick.....and he hadn't been there.

It was a horrible twisting ache. The nights were the worst, sitting alone in the darkness. He didn't look at his books, his work, anything. He sat in the darkness.

 

The day of the service, he put on his threadbare black suit. He used to wear it when his mother made him go to Mass. He walked to the funeral home and sat in the seats alone. A few folks from the hospital where his mother worked showed up. No one else. So it surprised him when his friends showed up. He was embarrassed then--not wanting to show tears in front of them. Calm fortitude and resignation took over. Like the feeling he had when he knew he was right and someone beat him up anyway.

Bruce sat with him. "Do you need anything?"

Steve shook his head.

"I tell you what--we'll make you some food so you have things to eat while you're on leave. Maybe...James could stay with you?"

Steve nodded, staring forward. His face was like a mask.

Charlotte hugged him so tightly Bucky had to pat her shoulder gently to remember to let Steve breath. She pulled back with tears on her face, whispering her condolences.

After that, Bucky took his arm, stationing himself at Steve's side like a bodyguard. He stood straight and tall, his jaw clenched. "I'm staying with you, Steve. Asked my parents, I'm staying."

Steve looked at him a little and nodded. He didn't trust himself to speak.

The burial was a quiet, small affair. Steve stayed until they lowered the casket into the ground. And then a small, sharp gasp escaped him, suppressing the instinct to go forward.

Over his head, Bruce nodded to Bucky. "Let's get him home, James."

Bruce would drop off homework and materials to Bucky while he stayed. Steve had two weeks to get his affairs in order and then he would be assumed into the legal system of the wizarding world--as he had no one else.

 

 

 

He got to his mother's house and Bruce and Charlotte got to work in the kitchen. Loki felt rather out of place, not sure what to say. He stayed by the wall, leaning against it.

"Go join in, brother." Thor encouraged him. "They may like a hand."

Loki looked at him and shook his head.

Tony was standing nearby with Loki. "We should help him get his finances in order. I can handle that. When he comes down--I'll take care of it. Heh, he'll be sitting better with me working on it anyway. Numbers would probably bowl him over."

 

In the living room, Bucky just sat with Steve quietly. "Was a good spot..."

Steve couldn't bear it for very long. He eventually went upstairs to his room. He took off his shoes, his jacket, his tie. He unbuttoned the first couple plastic buttons of his white shirt. And then he laid down in his bed. He curled up tight.

Bucky followed him and sat by him. "Hey... it's okay, Steve...you're okay. It's okay to cry, it is." He slid down onto the bed, against Steve's back and wrapped his arms around him.

Steve put his chin to his chest, shuddering. The unfamiliarity of a gentle touch, the warmth of arms wrapped around him. That seemed to bend the rest of his will. Steve curled his fingers into the blanket and cried, let it sob out. "She died alone," he said again. "She was all alone."

"I know, I know..." he said, "And it's horrible and I... but it's not your fault, Steve, it's not your fault. You were at school, you couldn't know. She didn't tell you. It's not your fault."

"She couldn't reach me! If I'd gotten the stupid letter sooner...if I hadn't gone....if I had refused to go back when she seemed off in September. I was sick the entire summer. Bedridden. Again," he said the last word bitterly. "All I've ever wanted--was to be strong. She used to tell me that I had a spirit that didn't match my body. And it was the only reason I kept living." He grit his teeth. "Of all the people to...to take...she was the only one who..."

"It's unfair," Bucky answered, pulling Steve in tighter to the curve of his body. He fit so easily against him, something Bucky selfishly liked. "It is. You're not alone, Steve. You're never alone. You got me." And everyone else but that didn't come out of his mouth. "You got me."

Steve was still for a moment...and then he gently turned over to face Bucky. Slowly, swallowing hard, he leaned in, burying his eyes in Buck's shoulder.

"I'm here, Steve, I'm here. Not gonna leave you alone. I'll look after you, you can come stay with me. My folks won't mind, I'll make it happen. Whatever you want." He embraced him tightly.

It happened slowly that Steve's hands slid up and finally embraced Bucky, wrapping his skinny arms around Buck's broad chest. He cried himself to exhaustion, wheezing. Until he seemed to run out and even then, he did not let go of Bucky. He held onto him tightly, even when he finally fell asleep.

Much later, Loki went up silently. He checked on them. He looked at their positions, how tightly they held onto each other. His facial expression did not change. He turned away. "They are all right," he reported. "James is with him." He glanced at Thor and then away. "We should get back."

"What about--"

"Tony," Bruce said, raising his eyebrows. "You can become Steve's accountant later. Right now, he needs some quiet, I think."

"Then I'll call Dad and have him send someone."

"Tony--"

"Not tonight! Maybe...I dunno. Tomorrow."

"Tony."

"Okay, okay, day after tomorrow. I'll put a note on the counter so they know."

"Tony," Charlotte said softly, touching his arm. "Let's go back." They went to the fireplace. She left the food she'd made covered and waiting for them when they woke up.

 

 

 

When he awoke again, he and Buck were, well, tangled up in each other. He was hesitant to leave it--because it was so warm. So warm.

Bucky shifted, his arms tightened around Steve as he yawned. "Morning, Steve... is it morning?"

"Clock says its two-seventeen..." Steve murmured.

"Basically counts," he decided, not making any effort towards moving. "It's nice like this."

"Like it," Steve said quietly. "Sorry about...all of this. I think I got a little wound up from this place...."

"Don't apologize," he said, shaking his head. "It'd be weirder if you didn't."

"Thanks...for staying..." he admitted.

Bucky nodded slowly, leaning in to nose at Steve. They were so close, so very close. "Wild horses couldn't pull me away."

Steve blinked, feeling Bucky...nose at his face, feel his warmth and smell his scent and...he blinked some...nosing back.

"You're my best friend, Steve. You always will be, I wanna help you, I always want to...is that weird?"

"Yeah, a little. But it's okay...if that's what was meant to happen...." he said quietly. He swallowed hard--Bucky was so close. So damn close. He wasn't sure if he should pull away or let him in.

"I can go with that." Bucky smiled, their noses rubbing together. "Destiny."

"Y-yeah," Steve stuttered quietly. His skinny fingers curling into Bucky's shirt.

"... I..." Bucky hesitated, warmth was blossoming in his chest as he looked into Steve's eyes through the dim light. He swallowed thickly, heart thudding as he kissed him.

Steve froze, eyes wide and blue and surprised. His stomach twisted, felt like everything inside of him jerked, the warmth, intimacy, affection of another person. He didn't jerk away--but it was painfully obvious that he'd never been kissed before. His blue eyes searched Bucky's, fingers tightening in his t-shirt. Was this...happening?

Bucky pulled back, his own eyes wide and wary. "... that was okay? Was that okay?"

Steve looked away. He took some deep breaths. "...I, uh...that...why'd you do that?"

"Wanted to..." he whispered, "Seemed right." He nuzzled him again hopefully. "I'd do it again."

Steve blinked rapidly, felt a wave of something sweep over him. "R-really?" He asked, voice small.

"Yeah." Bucky smiled and proved it, right then. Their mouths pushed together a little on the clumsy side, soft and firm.

"Why--?" he started and then it happened again. Steve didn't know how to kiss anyone--let alone his best friend. He took a stab at it though, kissing back a little, swallowing hard, gasping in a breath.

"Because I--I dunno. I like you. No one else is as important," Bucky mumbled, focused on kissing the soft, small mouth under him. His senses were filled...Steve laid on his back, looking at Bucky. His right hand curled into the sheet, his left curled nervously into Bucky's shirt. Nothing hurt. It didn't hurt. If he focused on this, even the ripe rotten pain of his mother could fade for a little while. Bucky was there, mouth against his, breathing in his shallow exhales. His weight was warm, solid, comforting. He felt an unfamiliar twist in his abdomen, shivering.

Bucky shifted, leaning over Steve and bracing himself with one arm. He kept kissing, a little more in the know than Steve was. It felt different from anyone else he'd ever kissed somehow. "Steve..." he flicked his tongue against the other boys lips, questing.

Steve trembled a little but parted his lips at the questing. His ears were burning red, spreading into his cheeks--making him look less pale, more alive than usual.

His tongue slipped into Steve's, slow but eager exploration. He tasted him, really tasted him and shuddered.

Steve gasped softly, fingers curling harder into Bucky's shirt. "Y-you're--" he swallowed, "..you're...warm...." he managed.

"You too," he murmured, lips brushing together with every word. "Steve...," the hand he wasn't leaning on brushed his friend's hair.

Steve's wide blue eyes followed his fingers and he nudged into Bucky's hand. "I've never...um..." he kissed him back.

"Doesn't matter, yours are the best," he said, stealing another greedily.

"Ha, I--I doubt that," he stuttered. His right hand lifted from the sheets to join the left, curling into Bucky's shirt. Holding onto him, anchoring himself.

"You calling me a liar, Rogers?" He grinned. "Cos I can prove you wrong."

"I've seen the girls you've kissed..." he said, though it broke at the end into a laugh, shaky with nerves and a flush of heat that was spreading lower to his chest and into his belly.

"Yeah, well, there's girls and then there's you." He kissed him deeper this time, belly tightening.

His head sunk into the pillow with the force of it. His hands slowly uncurled from Buck's shirt, settling at his sides. It brought them closer together, touching at points. Steve felt an unfamiliar spark, gasping a little at the tension, the twist of heat in him.

Bucky gasped into his mouth. They were... they were fourteen after all, boys with thoughts and hormones and this feeling so deep and powerful, overwhelming. He rocked himself down against Steve without even clearing the action with his brain.

Steve stiffened up, shocked into silence at the sensation. And then he breathed in. "Ah..." he groaned softly. Kissing deeper, a hand running up into Buck's hair.

His face turned red. "S-Steve, I... I... you okay?"

"Y-yeah....I....I am...." Steve shuddered, panting.

"I... can I...?" he asked him, not wanting to push him.

Steve didn't know...but he trusted Bucky. He nodded. "Y-yeah..." he said, almost in a whisper.

"Okay. Tell me to stop if..." Bucky swallowed and kissed him again, doing that motion with his hips once more. It felt so good, had him craving more.

He felt them grind against each other, sending shocks of sensation up his spine. It made everything feel fuzzy and far away. The world narrowing down, to just his room. Just the two of them on his bed...Bucky pinning him down with his comforting weight...not thinking about--

Bucky moaned, his gentle rocking motion slowly growing more intense. He'd ended up between Steve's legs, the slender thighs bracketing his hips and allowing the contact to be more direct. His face buried in Steve's neck, gasping at every thrust grinding them together.

Steve's head tilted back, feeling Buck's breath on his throat. He moaned, staring wide at the ceiling. He came first in his dress slacks, jerking and gasping. It didn't take much longer for Bucky to come too, his teeth scraped Steve's neck, just shying from a bite as he cried out. His weight came down, panting heavily against him.

Steve wrapped his skinny arms around him, gasping against his hair.

"Steve..." he mumbled. "You're my...I mean, I never want to leave you."

Steve looked at him. His face was flushed red. "....I don't want you to," he said, suddenly candid, no restraint or shyness. "I don't want you to."

"I won't then, I promise, I swear I won't." he told him, "I'll be by your side through everything."

"She would have liked you....my mother." He kissed him again, hard, no finesse, no grace. "C'mon...we can go to the tub--clean up..."

Bucky gasped, his side of the kiss turned submissive, giving to Steve. It was so easy; he knew Steve like the back of his hand. "Okay, yeah." He smiled. "Let's do that."

 

 

 

Steve couldn't look at him when they pulled apart. He was embarrassed, suddenly self-conscious about the sweat on his brow and mess in his clothes. He bit his lip, gingerly leading Bucky to the bathroom. He swallowed hard. "Um, yes." He turned on the shower to let it heat up. And then leaned against the wall to remove his socks.

Bucky held onto his hand, following him like an overeager puppy. "Hey..." he mumbled, fingers going to the buttons on Steve's shirt, slowly undoing them. Steve leaned back against the wall, watching Bucky open up his shirt. His chest was thin, pale--the opposite of Bucky's warm, sun-brown leanness. He reached up shaky hands, opening Buck's as well.

"You're so..." he caught his tongue between his teeth. "I like how you are." Bucky murmured, his hand touched Steve's narrow chest.

Steve looked down at that hand on his chest and then back up at Bucky, not understanding. "What...? How I am?"

"Yeah. You're so amazing, you're so... small and you... your hands." He circled Steve's wrist with his fingers.

"You..like that? That I'm...small? Geez." He looked at Buck's fingers, making perfect rings around his bony wrists. He couldn't help but be puzzled, frowning. He had always hated how small he was.

"Yeah. I mean... we fit together so well," Bucky answered, cheeks pink, smirking--shy but eager.

"I'm not a girl, you know," he said, laughing a little to cover his awkwardness. "C'mon...let's....let's get in there..." Steam was building up around them.

Bucky swallowed. It seemed... strange, like before he might not have much noticed another boy's nakedness, but with Steve... his eyes kept running downwards.

Steve put their things in the hamper to wash and then got in the shower. If he felt small a lot--it was twice as apparent here. The vulnerability of nakedness always made him feel even smaller. But then...he could sense Bucky, feel his warmth, his presence up close to him....

"Hey, I can wash your back," Bucky murmured, taking the the rag and soap and doing exactly that, gentle as his hands passed over Steve's spine.

Steve couldn't help it. He leaned back into him, craving that gentle touch more than he could admit.

Bucky smiled, taking his time. It made him feel good, feel useful. He found satisfaction in doing the simplest little things.

Steve had his eyes closed. He felt those larger, warm hands pass over his skinny shoulders, his arms, cross over his chest. He picked up the bar of soap, made his own skinny fingers slippery. He put the bar down and reached behind him. He felt Bucky's hips, lightly scrubbing them with his soapy hands.

"Stevie," Bucky hummed softly, moving forward into his touch.

He felt Buck's hips up against the small of his back. He touched, thighs, hips, flanks and then he turned around to face Bucky. His eyes were wide, almost fearful, but....he kept looking. He slippery fingers lifted Bucky's length and stroked it.

Bucky's eyes were dark, dark blue, his pupils grown huge. When Steve touched him his mouth fell open, his head fell back as he gasped.

Steve looked up at him. He licked a drop of water off his lip, wet hair sticking to his face. He continued, stroking him carefully.

Bucky swallowed thickly. His hand reached too, mirroring Steve. "Steve...." he whimpered softly, rocking into his hand.

Steve reached down and stopped him. "Don't," he said softly, stroking, touching and skimming over him.

"I... I... okay," he said, deferring to him. Bucky put his hands on Steve's shoulders, water running down his face and blurring his vision. "Steve, Steve... ah!"

Steve watched his body--how the muscle rippled, how his chest moved, how his cock hardened and raised into his hands. How his mouth opened and water streamed down his face, slicking his hair to his forehead. He watched Bucky. Testing touches behind the head, watching the hitches in his breathing.

Bucky moaned. His fingers dug into Steve's shoulders, his hips jerked forwards into his hands. "Oh!" He came again, gasping.

Steve watched, studied. Saw the water sluice everything away and then touched Bucky's quivering chest. He was quiet, just looking at his friend.

Bucky shook a little, his head moved down, pressing to Steve's skinny shoulder despite how he had to bend his back to do so. His heart beat so rapidly in his chest. "Steve..." he licked his lips, "Can I... now?"

Steve swallowed. He nodded, looked away. "If you...want."

"I do." he murmured. Permission granted his hand snaked down, finding Steve's cock and slowly stroking it.

Steve leaned back against the shower wall, hanging onto the soap dish. His head tipped back again the steamy wall, panting softly.

That... that was a sight. Bucky kept stroking, faster eventually, watching Steve's face. When he came again, he slid down the shower wall, legs unable to support him.

Bucky slid down after him, "Steve, hey Steve..." he said softly, hand on his friends face, concern in his eyes.

Steve leaned on him. "Sorry...ha...legs felt like jelly."

"It's okay. I feel kind of wobbly myself." He smiled at him then. "We should dry off, go back to bed. It's ages till morning still."

Steve smiled faintly and nodded. They got up, got towels and went to Steve's room. He pulled out clothes for them to wear while their dress clothes went into the wash.

Bucky pulled them on. Well, the boxers anyway, they fit pretty snugly on him but he didn't complain, climbing into the bed, opening up an arm for him.

Steve climbed in, settling down. He was so pale and always so cold, he sunk slowly--and a little awkwardly--against Bucky's arm, warning him not to laugh with a glare.

Bucky didn't. He wrapped his arms and the duvet tight around them both, curling about Steve like a cat and nuzzling his hair before he fell asleep.

The next morning they woke slowly, exchanging a few shy, soft kisses--experimental--before heading downstairs.

 

 

 

Steve made them waffles, watching him quietly. Stacks of hot, syrupy waffles. For the first time in a week, he had something like an appetite. He patted Buck's hair as he cleaned up, watching him demolish his stack.

A man showed up not long later--claiming to have been sent by Tony Stark's father, Howard. The man's name was Coulson. He helped Steve gather up all the bills and materials and put his finances in order. The house must be sold to pay what was owed on it. Fortunately, the selling of the house would also cover other bills and expenses that his mother had had, including hospital bills for him.

"Does your mother keep records of hospital bills for you?"

Steve looked away. "Yes...." he brought them. Two large, heavy boxes, full of them.

He stayed at the table, watching Coulson work out all the math. "You'll be left with a little sum--part of it will go towards getting you integrated into the Wizarding Legal system. But most will be put into an account that you will be able to access when you come of age. Now...the contents of the house...you will have to empty in a week or two--because there's no one else who can and you must return to school."

Steve felt like the walls were closing in, like claustrophobia. He nodded though, that sick feeling coming back.

"We can help you sell your mother's--"

"No!" Steve cut him off. "No--I...I'll take care of it." He looked at the table. "Not selling her...her things."

"He's not selling, 'em," Bucky reinforced Steve's choice. "I'll ask my parents, Steve, we'll put them away safe."

Coulson didn't miss a beat. "If your parents are truly interested in helping, then if you give me their address and a way to contact them, I will arrange a moving company to box things up and get them moved to your residence, Mister Barnes," said Coulson. "And not to worry--I am well-acquainted with the wizarding side."

"I--yeah okay." Bucky nodded. "Gimme a quill--er pen, whatever." He was fairly confident, their house was so big. Bucky was sure they had room to store Steve's mum's things. He wrote it down and passed it to Coulson.

Coulson thanked him. He left soon after, promising a service to arrive in a week.

Bucky eyed him until he was gone and then returned to Steve's side. A moment of hesitation and he leaned himself all up in Steve's space, arms looped around his slim waist and chin on his shoulder. "You're gonna be okay, Stevie."

Steve bowed his head, burying eyes in his shoulder. He hugged him tightly, breathing rough so he wouldn't cry.

"Hey, it's okay, Steve. It's okay, you can cry if you want, it's just me." he murmured, moving to rub his back in calming motions.

He did. Softly, shuddering.

 

 

 

Going through his mother's things was difficult. At first he thought to keep everything--but that wasn't practical, or logical. Some things could go--her clothes, linens--things of that nature. But her jewelry, photos, mementos--he separated. He found a box of letters but did not stop to read them. He stuffed them under his bed to peruse later. All he had left of her--not that they had ever had much--but all he had of her was packaged up in two cardboard boxes.

The attic though, held his father's things--and things belonging to his family. Old spellbooks, robes, maps, books in strange languages. These he could not so easily separate. He kept most everything. And even then--most of it was put into four boxes. All he had of his father's family.

He sat in the attic on top of the boxes, looking at the grimy floor. For a long time, he sat--and it was almost night when he emerged. He was coughing from dust, dirt and his asthma. He was back to looking ashen again, no appetite, nothing.

He did smell pancakes--or whatever Bucky was making for dinner. But his mouth felt like sawdust and he wandered to his barren room, sitting on the bed.

"Steve!" Bucky called up, then frowned when no answer came. He turned the heat off on the pan and covered what he'd made before heading upstairs. "Hey, Stevie..." He entered the room and looked at his best friend, his--whatever they were, looking somehow even more tiny and frail in a room now barren of any personal touch. "I uh... dinner, if you want it."

"M'not hungry," he murmured, looking at his hands.

"It can keep." He nodded, head bobbing. Bucky walked over and sat down beside him. "So... how you feeling about tomorrow?" Tomorrow was the day for leaving, for going back to school finally.

He shrugged a little, swallowing hard. "Dunno..." he murmured.

He pressed their shoulders together. "Everybody's going to be happy to see you."

Steve nodded. "....yeah...."

Bucky put an arm around him and they sat in the quiet.

 

 

 

The men came next day. They were wizard-types, taking the boxes and heading off to the Barnes residence. The two boys were escorted by Floo to Hogsmeade. They were met in Honeydukes by their Head of Houses, Professor Beilschmidt and Professor Braginski.

"Good morning." Beilschmidt waved to them when they came out of the fireplace. "Its good to have you back here with us." She still had her black teaching robe on since it was official Hogwarts business, the effect was a little ruined by the fact she was chewing some sort of gum that spat out pink bubbles now and then. "You got all your kit?"

Bucky nodded, his arm protectively about Steve. "Yes, Professor."

"Your bedding and other things were moved out of the dormitories in your absence, Mister Rogers."

Steve blinked, shrugging Bucky's arm off his shoulders and looking up at Braginski. "What? Already? I thought I had til the end of the year?"

"Well--given what has happened--Professor Jones thought you might like to stay in the old groundskeeper's hut for as long as you need residence."

Steve blinked again, this time stunned. "....wh-what?"

Braginski showed him and Bucky. He produced a key from his robe and opened it. "The former groundskeeper was a half-giant called Hagrid. A good man and he lived here to a fine old age. But because he was half-giant--as you can see, everything is quite large. Professor Jones came down here and cleaned out all the dust and webs--and strange pets that Hagrid was known to keep. And I made the desk, bed, table--smaller so to fit you. But it's cozy, warm and you will be able to stay here on breaks."

Steve stared at the two professors. "....is this...for real?"

Braginski nodded. "Of course, now--we are trusting you, Rogers. You have a good track record. No visiting the Forbidden Forest. No sneaking off to Hogsmeade. Those things still apply."

"O-of course..."

Bucky gaped. "Holy shit." Beilschmidt quirked her lips, not bothering to reprimand him on the language. "This is so cool!" he grinned at Steve, "Hey, Professors could I sleep over?"

An amused snort escaped his Head of House. "I'll think about it, Barnes. You can come down here with Steve though in your free time. Nice little clubhouse for you all." She winked.

Steve bowed his head a little. "Thank you," he said, quietly.

Braginski nodded. "Of course. Now, we will leave you to get settled. Class begins again on Monday, Rogers. If you have any problems--come to me. Mister Barnes, of course, will get settled and put his things away--perhaps he'll tell your friends that you're back."

"But--"

"No, you got a dorm to report to." Beilschmidt put her hand on Bucky's shoulder. "You'll see each other at dinner in the Great Hall."

The dark-haired boy huffed. "Okay, professor. See ya soon, Steve." He winked at his friend and allowed himself to be steered up to the castle. Of course, he planned on immediately gathering everyone and running back down to the cottage the moment he could.

Steve looked around the quiet cottage. It was quite large given that he was so small. He lit a fire to try and drive the cold from him and slowly, unpacked his few belongings. Books on shelves, ingredients, parchments, potions on the bookcases. How odd, to have his own little house. He had not expected such a thing. He even had a place now for a few of his father's books. He shelved them, touching the worn leather bindings. The scent of old books was thick around him--but he liked that. It made him think of his mother.

Uncertainly, he looked at the volumes. What had happened between him and Bucky...well, he couldn't take it back. And...he wasn't really sure that he wanted to. Emotions had run high, hormones and all that weird stuff...but it hadn't seemed...wrong.

 

 

 

Bucky found Loki first naturally, given they shared a dorm room and left it to him to get Thor. Then he escaped the Slytherin dungeon and found Bruce in the library, tracked down Charlotte sneaking out of the kitchens licking something chocolatey off her lips (they'd discovered the secret to get in there last year) and of course encountered Tony in his lab.

Like an invading horde they bundled down to the cottage, wrapped up against the cold to welcome Steve back. "Steve!" Charlotte smiled and hugged him tightly.

Steve smiled gently and hugged her. "How are you, Charlotte?"

Loki nodded to him and Tony folded his arms. "Hey--nice of them to get you one of these, eh? Heard some old giant lived in it a while ago and got all kinds of weird animals in here."

"Yeah, I suppose so. How is Caoimhe?" He asked.

"She's doing good," Tony said. "She likes the blood flavors I make her. And the final batch of my new Wolfsbane potion is nearly ready for testing. The end of the month will tell. Also, I want to ask that Romanov girl to the Yule Ball. But I haven't just yet." He stroked his chin.

Barnes blinked and then grinned. "She'd eat you alive, Stark. Knew you liked 'em fierce."

"The Yule Ball isn't for a month. I want to ask her. She seems very....interesting." Stark smirked. "I wanted to wait for you to return though, James. Just to make sure all was fair if you were thinking of asking her as well."

"Naw, I like Nat but not in my plans. Go for it, Stark, I'm interested in seeing how that goes." Bucky smiled easily.

"Oh really--and who is in your plans?" Tony grinned.

"None of your business, Stark." Bucky raised his chin, looking smugly superior. "I'm already ahead of the curve."

Tony blinked. "What? You already asked someone? Who!" he challenged. "You have to tell me!"

"Nu uh, don't have to say anything, Stark. Smartest kid in school, right? Sure you can figure it out." He wasn't lying, really. He never said he'd actually asked anyone.

Stark glared at him. "So its someone I wouldn't expect. Or, you're lying. We'll see, James. We'll see."

He smirked at him. "We'll see." Bucky echoed and swaggered off to Steve's side.

 Steve busied himself getting them all tea. "I imagine everyone knows why I was gone?"

"They do," Bruce confirmed. "It spread fairly quickly. Be careful your first few days back--you know what Horizon and his little crew--well, how they might use that."

Steve breathed in deep. "Yeah...I do."

Charlotte squeezed her arms impulsively around him again. "I will break their noses if they do! You see if I don't!" She stamped her little foot in emphasis.

"With a curb stomp, apparently," Thor chuckled, crossing his muscular arms. "We all have your back, my friend."

Steve looked awkward. "Thanks...I really appreciate it. You have been good about all this."

 

 

 

Bruce was correct--when Steve showed up for breakfast the next morning, Horizon elbowed his friends and nodded towards him. They smiled at each other.

Steve didn't eat much before heading off for class.


	5. Science and Magic - One and the Same

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New and Improved - Wolfsbane Potion! Take it once and never again! Control transformations! Go on dates! Only 7,99!
> 
>  
> 
> Also, wand-swallowing.

Loki sat next to Romanov in History of Magic. "You know, Stark wants to ask you to the Yule Ball," he said idly, looking professionally bored.

"Does he?" Natasha didn't lift her eyes away from her text book. She wore her red hair in gentle waves down her back. "The only fourth year with facial hair, right?"

"That's him," Loki said. "Barnes told him you would eat him alive. But he is pretty determined."

The mention of Bucky had Natasha snorting quietly with laughter. "And why are you telling me this, Odinson?"

Loki shrugged. "Curiosity. Would you actually go with him?"

Now, she looked up, blue eyes thoughtful. "That depends on how he asks, I suppose."

"What do you mean?" Loki asked her. "If he comes at you with flowers or a knife, you'll go?"

"I mean if he comes asking me just because I'm a pretty face or because of something more," she told him, side-eyeing him.

"He seems to think you're interesting," Loki said, noncommitally, shrugging.

"Then he can prove that to me." she said calmly, mind calculating. Stark was a jumped up, egotistical boy...but also truly intelligent and witty.

Loki snorted. "I don't care particularly. Just curious." He looked down at his notes.

Mmhm." Natasha smiled, not so sure that was the entire truth.

 

 

 

It surprised Steve a little--Horizon and his friends did not look at him, speak to him or come near him. They had smiled. That was it. He kept waiting for something but it didn't happen.

He should have known better---well, no, he did know better. But he was distracted--Bucky absorbed so much and he liked that. With him, he could express...something. Himself. Or something, physically and emotionally. They would explore each other in the hut, discovering their bodies together. Everything.

So when it finally came--it surprised him.

 

Walking outside alone, having just returned his broom to the shack for flying lessons that day--he could not be with Bucky at every second, after all. Sometimes his closeness was suffocating.

"Hey, Rogers!"

He tensed and turned around, taking a step back as Horizon hurried up to him. "What do you want?"

"I heard your mother died a couple weeks ago."

"....yes."

"Must have been a real tragedy. No father and now no mother. No siblings. Nobody. How'd she die?"

Steve could sense Licorice and Pierce behind him somewhere. "...she was sick."

"Heard it was TB," Pierce said, smiling.

"Yeah."

"I heard how that happens," said Horizon, smile going into a grin. "You get tired, sickly, the blood starts--"

He spit blood, thick and heavy, into Steve's face. "Ah!" He stumbled back into Licorice.

"Yeah, like that. All that blood. Your mother's a mudblood muggleborn so--"

Licorice dumped warm mud over his head, it mixed with the blood.

"And of course, you don't have a father," said Pierce, "so you had to bury her yourself. Or did they just throw her in the river?" 

"Or maybe she's a ghost--and she'll follow you to Hogwarts to haunt you," Horizon said. He flicked his want at Licorice who turned into a pale, tall lady, blood-splattered and obviously meant to be his mother as a ghost.

Steve jerked away, eyes narrowing, fury. Cold, horrible fury. He jumped at Horizon.

"Oh Stevie, don't have an asthma attack," Licorice told him, grinning.

"C'mon, we're just playin." Horizon grabbed Steve and whipped him back around. He held onto the struggling, smaller boy--Horizon had that blood running from his mouth and eyes, coughing at Steve and smattering him with it. Blood flecking all over his too-thin face. "What's wrong, Rogers? This too close to hom--"

Steve sunk his fist into Horizon's gut as hard as he could.

Horizon returned the favor and Steve doubled over.

Steve wheezed, rage flooding through his eyes. He could hear a sort of muted roaring, blood soaring through him before he realized that...he wasn't hearing himself. He was hearing--

Bucky tore into them in a fury, so angry he forgot he was a wizard, forgot he had magic and struck out with fists and feet. Lean and fierce, he gunned for Horizon, pushing hard passed the others, snarling as he leaped onto the other boy's back.

Horizon jumped up so he could land on his back, to crush Bucky beneath him. Steve whirled on the other two, swinging fists at Licorice and Pierce. They laughed, taking turns. "You just don't give up, do you, Rogers?"

"I can do this all day," he growled, low, even. And then he cast the blisterpit hex. Pierce yelped, scrambling at his flesh as the pus-filled boils burst on his skin.

Licorice bloodied his lip, threw him against the wall. And then, while Steve was still dizzy, went to grab Horizon. He laughed, tackling Bucky, hitting him as hard as he could so Horizon could jump up and join him. They laughed. "So easy to get you out here, Barnes. You're always following your little boyfriend around like a lovesick puppy. What's he do to keep you at his side, Barnes?"

"FUCK YOU!" Bucky roared. "You're a bunch of fucking cowards! Wastin' oxygen, that's all you do!" He threw the two boys off of him and got up. He lashed out, sharp elbow to Horizon's face, "I'll kill you!" He spat between bloodied teeth.

 

Loki was the one who found Steve trying to bash Licorice away from Bucky and Horizon. He had not often been in these situations in person. In fact, he never had--always hearing about them after the fact. He scowled and grabbed Steve, throwing him away from Licorice. A quick flick of his wand and Licorice was throwing up slugs, heaving and choking.

And then he grabbed Horizon by the shoulder and threw him against the wall. "You may want to go help your friends."

Horizon blinked, seeing them bleeding and puking. He scowled. "We'll continue later, Barnes." He pushed passed Loki to grab his two friends to help them away.

"Yeah, an' I'll murder you! See if I don't!" Bucky roared after him, pushing the vocalization out with such force he felt dizzy afterwards. He was breathing hard, bruised in a dozen places and bleeding from a split lip.

Loki looked at Bucky. "All right?"

He barely spared Loki a glance. "...Steve... Steve!" he turned, whipping round to find him and grabbing him (gently) before pulling him into a hug.

Steve didn't move. "I...should have expected it. I need a bath," he said, voice deadpan.

Bucky seemed completely out of sorts, his fingers ran over Steve's face, brushing off the mud and fake-blood tenderly. "I was scared, I thought they really hurt you."

Steve looked away, eyes distant. "Yeah...I'm gonna go have a bath..." he turned away, looking at the grass.

Loki looked over the blood--spelled and fake but looked very, very real--and the mud all over him.

"Steve..." Bucky said faintly, looking helpless. Bucky curled his hand into the back of Steve's robes and glanced at Loki. "Uh, thank you."

Loki just nodded, shrugging. "Go." He invited, nodding towards Steve.

Bucky jerked his head in a nod. "Come on, Steve, I got you." he murmured, walking with him to the cottage. He just wanted to... to... wrap Steve up, somehow, keep him away from the world. Protect him from everything.

Steve didn't say anything. He simply walked automatically, feet carrying him down well-tread paths to the cottage, wiping the blood off his face.

 

 

In the cottage, Steve started peeling off his ruined clothes.

Bucky filled the tub and charmed it to the perfect heat. "Steve..." he looked at him. "You... I shoulda..."

"Don't," Steve said, eyes dark, tone still deadened. "You shouldn't have had to do anything. It's not your responsibility to babysit me. You can't be with me twenty-four hours a day. This is just a part of life."

"I know, I just--Steve...." Bucky said, his voice hungry as his hand reached, brushing Steve's arm.

Steve threw his ruined robes in the fireplace. He stood there in his thin t-shirt and pants, just watching the fire catch the robes his mother had made him. "I expected it--and then I relaxed--it's my own fault."

"I want to protect you. I want to shield you from everything. The rest of the world can fuck off." He gulped as he watched. Bucky slipped up behind Steve and pressed his face against his hair. "It's their fault, they did it."

"You can't," Steve said simply. "This is how it's always been."

Bucky made a sort of desperate noise in the back oh his throat, his arms around Steve now, holding him firmly to his chest. "I would do it... I'd kill them." Dangerous words, heartfelt as only the young and naive could say them, ignoring the wider world.

Steve tensed a little. "Don't say things like that, Bucky." He shook his head. "It's not good. They're not worth going to jail for. Believe me--this is how the world is. Bullies and those they don't like. That's all for them."

His fingers rubbed circles into Steve's stomach. "I can't help it, I see them hurting you and I see red. I think... I think I could do anything in those moments."

The touches were soothing, making Steve want to relax back into him. He did a bit. "I won't run from them. Ever. Because once you start running, they'll never let you stop. I don't care about the beatings. Or the awful things they say. Or what they said about my mother. They're cowards."

Bucky nodded, lips dry and then kissing Steve's shoulder, tasting dirt. "I got your back, I always will."

Steve stared into the fire. His eyes hard, sad. It was hard to breath. But he didn't say anything. He looked back at Bucky. "Thank you. I should get a bath..." He felt numb, like his emotions, his brain, had gone into a shut down. He pulled off his shirt.

His hands took Steve's clothes, draped them over a chair for him. Bucky's eyes followed Steve's progress into the tub and he sank down beside it, hands taking up the rag for him. Gently, Bucky helped Steve scrub all the mess off his skin.

The blood and muck came off slowly. Steve grimaced at it and screwed his eyes shut, scrubbing hard at his face and skin. He didn't want to stay in very long. And now, he had been naked in front of Bucky more than a couple times--now, he was nearly used to it. Knew Bucky wasn't judging, anyway. So when he was clean, he got up, pulling a towel in to wrap around his shoulders. He got out, standing in front of Bucky--who was still seated by the tub. Steve ran fingers through his hair.

That simple touch had Bucky leaning in, pressing his head up into Steve's fingers. He half-closed his eyes, the flannel falling from his fingers into the dirty water.

Steve continued, expression still empty, comforting Bucky. Warm, damp fingers running through Bucky's thick, mussed hair, massaging his scalp.

Bucky sighed softly, relaxing slowly, the tension bleeding out of him. A small shift across the floor brought him close enough to wrap his arm around Steve's hips.

Steve was brought closer, belly button at about Bucky's chin. He kept massaging his scalp.

It was easy to lean forward and press his face into Steve's stomach. Bucky's mouth kissed soft flesh, parting Steve's towel and his tongue brushed over the dip of his belly button.

"Ah...." he murmured.

Bucky moved, oddly submissive, not so much the brash and boisterous boy now. He kissed and licked, hands kneading Steve's bony hips then cautiously leaned down. His lips touched Steve's cock, nervous. Before it had always been grinding themselves together or using hands.

Steve shuddered. Bucky's large, warm palms felt good--he gasped softly, feeling Buck's lips. He looked down, breathing fast.

"Steve," he mumbled, kissing the head and then parting his lips, taking him in slowly.

He cried out softly. "B-Bucky--!" His eyes screwed shut, choking back a groan.

Bucky swallowed and started to suck, bobbing his head up and down in shallow movements. It felt odd to have Steve in his mouth, his cock hard and velvet smooth, sliding over his tongue and to the back of his throat.

Steve grabbed onto the tub's rim, holding onto it, leaning against it. He twitched in his mouth, harder and stiffer, seeping. His eyes rolled back a little. "Ah...ah...B-Buck--I..."

He couldn't stop himself looking up, looking up at Steve's face. Bucky tried to do it faster, tried not to scrape his teeth, tried to work his tongue in a way that was pleasing.

"Buck--I'm--I--" He jerked, hips snapping. He let go of the tub, grabbing onto Bucky's hair and coming hard.

Steve's dick hit the back of his throat, Bucky grabbed onto his hips harder than he ever would have consciously, his eyes wide as Steve came into his mouth. He felt it, tasted it and breathed heavily through his nose, gagging a little but not pulling off.

"I'm sorry," Steve gasped immediately. "Bucky-I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry--I couldn't pull back in time--Buck--I'm sorry!"

Bucky looked up at him, breathing heavily. "Steve..." his fingers touched his lips dazedly, "Holy fuck, you... that was good."

He blinked. "You....you liked that?"

"I liked you," he said softly.

Steve turned red. "It wasn't...gross?"

"No, wasn't gross. Was you," he said. Bucky's mouth was reddened, lips swollen.

Steve knelt down and kissed him, skinny fists grabbing into his robe. Bucky surged up on his knees, kissing him back with an eager groan. He hung tight still to Steve's hips. He got into Buck's lap, straddling him, pulling his robe open and apart.

"Steve," Bucky moaned, grinding him down against his crotch. "Oh damn, Steve."

Steve grabbed into his hair with one fist, the other planted fingernails into his shoulder. He grunted, towel falling from his shoulders.

"Can't believe you got this place, other students would probably kill for it." But they didn't get it, they didn't get Steve. Bucky kissed him as they rocked together.

Steve's eyes cleared in a flash, heat dying, looked over Bucky's shoulder. "Guess they'll have to kill their own parents," he said solemnly. He put his chin on Bucky's shoulder, letting Bucky chase his own release.

The words sent a repentant chill through him, he whined softly but couldn't seem to stop. He held tight to Steve, coming soon enough in his pants. "Steve..." he looked at him.

Steve combed his fingers through Bucky's hair. "Let me change the water--then you can have a bath." He got up carefully, pulling on some clothes. He picked up his wand and changed the water for his friend.

He felt cold again. Cold and ashamed. Disgusted with himself. He didn't look at Bucky. He changed the water and went to bed.

 

 

 

Robrick Wilson, an Australian native and Gryffindor fifth year, asked Charlotte to the Yule Ball that afternoon.

Charlotte felt her face heat up, clutching her books to her chest as she stared up at the tall, tall handsome boy in front of her. He had a wirey lean build and his skin was deeply tanned, only slowly paling in the winter. His eyes were green, his hair possibly purposefully messy and he had a rakish grin on his face that made her stomach do a little flip. "I... um, yes. Yes, I'd like that."

Rob smiled. "Good. Uh--I got some, uh--dark gold and black robes to wear. Uh--in case dressing to match is a thing that you like. I know we've only hung around in Herbology but, uh--I think you're cool."

"I, uh..." she nodded sort of dumbly, eyes glued to his face in that sort of epiphany that this boy had been around her before in the greenhous and how had she never noticed before the way his eyes crinkled up at the corners when he smiled? "I'll think about that. I bet they look nice, on you."

"Ah, well, you know." he said, smiling and shrugging. "Thought they'd look pretty stylish if you said yes."

She hugged her books to her chest, her smile widening as the red blush bloomed under her dusky cheeks. "I'm really, um, glad you asked."

Rob grinned. "Good. I'm glad I asked you. Maybe we can get together on the next Hogsmeade trip too--just to make sure we know what to talk about." He winked.

"Okay!" Charlotte piped up before he even finished the sentence. "I mean, I'd like that too." Calm down, she tried to admonish herself. A giggle escaped her, "I'm kind excitable."

He laughed at her enthusiasm. "I like that--don't worry--shows me that my charm still works." He grinned.

 

 

 

Tony sat back in his chair looking extremely smug. "It's done," he told Professor Beilschmidt. "This should change things. If it works, which it should. A werewolf drinks this and they can control their transformations entirely. One dose--not monthly. I talked to Banner--he volunteered to be our test subject if you'll let him."

Beilschmidt sniffed at the potion, her eyes flicked to his notes, perused a thousand times and more over. "No innovation comes without risk. As far as I can tell this is sound, if you--and Banner--feel comfortable we'll conduct a safe test. Away from the school with myself and other professors there in case something should go wrong."

Tony nodded. "Sounds good, Professor. Where at?"

"... the Shrieking Shack," she said after a moment. "It's the best place."

"All right, name the date and time and I'll let Banner know."

"Next Saturday, eleven pm."

Late to avoid any chance of disturbance. A weekend in case... in case it went wrong. She'd check with Honda and they made all the necessary arrangements and sat down to talk with Bruce to make sure he was aware of what he was agreeing to and all the risks involved.

Banner agreed, eager to try it. To try anything, really.

 

 

 

Bruce stood in the center of the room. He pulled off his robe--leaving himself in a pair of stretchy sweatpants--just in case he transformed or something. Professor Jones bagged up his clothes.

"This is your last chance to back out, Banner," Jones said. "No one would blame you."

Bruce shook his head. "I want to."

"It will probably be painful," Tony said casually, looking over his notes. "This is going to change your blood. The chemical make-up that causes the transformation seems to be a mix of a genetic mutation and axial polarity. By which I mean, the axis and magnetic pull caused by the moon--literally force your body into change. With this, your genetic make-up will change. The moon will still pull at you--the same way it pulls at everyone--but the changing element will be disabled. I don't know how exactly you will be able to change at will--but if it works like I think it will--it will be a matter of you projecting your own axial polarity to bring the change. Do you all understand?"

Professor Jones raised an eyebrow. "Not really. But I think you do. Hopefully."

Bruce was nodding though. "I think I get it. The moon's influence has a magnetic field--which causes things like tides. It is essentially the same concept. But the magnetic field created by the full moon--causes werewolves to transform. The other moon stages are too weak. "

"Correct--and this influence combined with the tilting axis of the earth and the magnetic north and south pole--pulls at werewolf blood like the ocean--causing 'tides'. So think of it like this--on the full moon, a werewolf's blood is at high tide. This causes the transformation. This potion should keep a wolf's blood at 'low tide' unless he wants to use it.

Honda looked at her student, examining Bruce's tired eyes. "Trust is a great gift." She looked at Tony, then at Beilschmidt and Professor Jones. "We will begin when you are ready, Bruce."

"What about your parents?" Professor Jones asked. "Have you informed them?"

"My mother was the one who bit me. I have not seen her since that day. I will not tell my father, it would kill him."

 

Tony watched Bruce. For the first time showing some anxiety. He fidgeted with the bottle and then handed it to Bruce.

The older boy uncorked it. He met Tony's eyes and nodded to him. "Bottoms up?"

"Bruce," Tony said suddenly, raising a hand. "I..." and then he shook his head and stepped away.

Bruce looked at Tony a long moment and then nodded. He drank from the bottle. For the longest five minutes of Bruce's life nothing happened and then he felt a burning in the pit of his stomach. It spread like wildfire, racing through his veins. His eyes turned black. Tony started forward, intending to go to him, but Jones grabbed him.

Bruce collapsed to his knees. His chest wheezed and his fingers gripped into his shirt above his heart. He ripped it away. They could see the ripple under his skin as his muscles contorted. His skin seemed waxy, too thin, a blue sheen rushing through him. Bruce could hear screaming. He was not aware that it was himself. He collapsed completely to the dirty floor. The entire agonizing process took ten minutes. When he finally went quiet, Tony broke away from Professor Jones.

"Bruce? Bruce?! I'm so sorry, Bruce! Are you okay?! Bruce!"

The professors went to the young werewolf, checking him over.

"Is he alright?!" Tony demanded.

None of them knew.

Bruce finally came around five minutes later. He stared blearily up at Tony, grabbing onto his arm to ground himself in reality.

Honda came and knelt beside them, her small delicate hand touched Bruce's forehead. "How do you feel?" she asked him gently.

Next to Jones, Beilschmidt let her hand drop from her mouth. She'd never had to watch anything that had ever made her more uncomfortable and feeling helpless in her entire life. "Brave kid," she murmured, leaning a little into Professor Jones a little.

"Dizzy," Bruce reported. "Sick. Is that supposed to happen?"

Tony knew the answer to that but he couldn't seem to get his brain going. "I...uh..." He kept looking over Bruce, as if expecting him to disappear. It occurred to him-- _What if I'd killed him? What if he's dying right now? All because there was something I hadn't thought of. Why don't I...think?_

"Yes," Beilschmidt said, stepping in for Tony. She put her hand on her student's shoulder. They were of a height now. "The potion's magic is interweaving itself with the curse, some nausea is to be expected while it adjusts. Have some water, Banner. Sip it." 

Bruce sipped.

"It should last a couple hours, at most," Jones said, looking at Beilschmidt with Tony. "Right, Stark?"

Tony swallowed.

"Stark," he said, louder.

Tony started. "Yes...but I'll stay with him," he said. "Just to make sure."

"All right. And in two weeks, we'll know for certain. Start picking out something nice for the ball, Banner. Girls may be after you before long."

"It's okay, Tony, you've done well," Beilschmidt said, giving his shoulder a squeeze, giving him the reassurance he needed right now. "We'll wait another hour and take you both back up to the school."

Honda nodded, "Just so."

Bruce watched Tony for a moment and then gave him a small, reassuring smile. "Tony....it's all right."

Tony looked away. "Course it is. I made it, didn't I? You'll be fine. You'll be just fine. Better, actually. Cause this is gonna work."

Bruce nodded. "I believe you, Tony."

Tony looked away, getting up to pace while the professors kept checking Bruce's temperature, his heart beat, notating everything.

A half hour later, they would escort them back to the castle--putting the two of them in a small single room with two beds. It was a private infirmary room but they would let the two of them have it--else Tony might burst from anxiety. Once Bruce was settled in one bed, Tony left him with Professor Jones and Professor Beilschmidt and went outside the door to Professor Honda.

"...Professor," he said slowly, looking away. "I--if this doesn't work....and Bruce dies--he could have died. His core body temperature probably hit well over acceptable limits--his heart was bursting--he could have died. If he dies still--if he dies during the night..."

"Stark," she said gently, looking into his face. "Listen to me. You are a very intelligent young man and you are driven by the desire to help your friend. You have done well. We all have faith in you. You must have faith in yourself and in Bruce." Honda's smile was small and genuine. "It is also all right to be scared for him. He's your friend."

Tony looked away, not liking to admit it. That fear--that anxiety. "I wanted to help him," he admitted. "It didn't occur to me that I could kill him. I don't know why it didn't--I know people think I'm selfish and arrogant and self-absorbed--and they're right. I don't always think of others. I should have here--he...he's..." He crossed his arms. "Bruce is a good guy. He deserves this. If I had killed him...."

"You are a very focused young man," Honda told him. "This is both a blessing and a curse. You have so much intelligence and drive you will be able to reach further and accomplish more than many others, but sometimes you may forget the smaller things in the push for your vision," Honda said. "This is why you have friends like Banner, people who can remind you. You didn't kill him, this is what happened. Ifs, buts, maybes: these are unimportant, these are past. Focus on what is."

Tony nodded a little. He had always responded best to the no-nonsense approach, hence his very good working relationship with Beilschmidt and Honda. "I will stay up all night and keep an eye on him to make sure he's all right. I will call you if anything happens." He wet his upper lip. "He never said, you know, until tonight--that he hadn't seen his mother. Or that his mother was the one who bit him. He...holds back a lot."

"It is painful for him." She nodded. "He is afraid of himself as well. I think you two understand each other better than many would. I am glad you have become friends. He was lonely during his first year."

Tony nodded. "Yeah..." He nodded again to her. "Thank you for coming tonight, Professor. I know he respects you a great deal." He turned to go back into the room. Jones did one last check of Bruce's vitals and then they left.

"It is nothing for two of my students." she assured him. "Please get some rest, Tony."

Tony nodded and sat down in an armchair, just watching Bruce rest.


	6. Werewolves of London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The line between the physical and the not.

Loki snuck back into the castle, quietly. He swallowed hard--looking ruffled. His hair was mussed and smeared with dirt. He had scratches on his face. He avoided eye contact with all he passed, heading for Tony's lab rather than Slytherin's common room.

Thor caught the tail end of his brother's path through the castle from amidst a group of his friends. He excused himself and chased after him, finding himself led along a familiar pathway. He did not have to hurry then and found Loki once he had let himself into the laboratory. "Brother?"

Loki tensed, looking behind him. "....ah, Thor. What is it?"

"You seem distressed--what happened to you? You look as if you were in a scuffle." Thor touched his shoulder.

Loki looked aside a long moment and then back at Thor. "Thor, you would be honest with me were I to ask you a question?"

"Of course I would, brother," Thor said, beginning to look concerned. "What troubles you?"

He swallowed and looked at his hands. "Am I cursed?"

"... what? Why would you think this? I see no curse upon you."

Loki looked at his hands still. "I...went out to the Forest," he said slowly. "I ran into a changeling. One of the dark ones--that have the poison flesh. The acid they use dissolves human skin, you know. I did not know they were in the Forest..." He looked at the wall. "It grabbed me and it oozed that black...sludge on my arms--it burnt my sleeves away." He showed Thor, shaking out the ruined sleeves of his robe. "But my skin was...fine. I was unaffected."

"What were you doing in the forest!" He exclaimed immediately, "You could have been hurt!" And then Loki's words seem to catch up to him. "... I... Loki, I do not understand."

"I wanted to find some fresh ingredients--it doesn't matter now but..." he looked up at Thor. "I...don't either. But when it grabbed me--I was unhurt. I killed it--in that moment both of us were startled. My skin turned dark blue, like theirs..."

"That's impossible! You are no changeling, you are my brother." Thor shook his head in denial. "Loki, perhaps it was a trick of the light."

"Are my sleeves a trick of the light, Thor? My skin should have melted off. The only way it could not, would be if I were a changeling too. You know that, Thor."

"But how can that be! I remember you since you were but a baby." He shook his head. "You are my brother."

"But what about before that? Castle Asgard was once attacked, Father told us. What if...what if I came from there...."

"I... do not remember before," Thor admitted. In fact his earliest memory was playing with his baby brother under their mother's watchful eye. "Why... Father would... why would he not say so?"

"I don't know...I suppose I should write to him. And then ask one of the professors how to tell if you're a changeling."

"Loki. Regardless of the truth, you are my brother," Thor said with gritted determination and pulled him into an embrace. "We will get to the bottom of this."

Loki looked down into the red and gold of his Gryffindor sweater. "Yes..." he murmured.

 

 

 

December came in with snow and ice. The Yule Ball approached. Bruce fidgeted as the full moon advanced like an approaching army and had no mind for the dance. The rest of the school was alive with the chatter of it. And he urged Tony to go anyway.

Tony succumbed to Bruce's encouragement and went to the red-head. "Romanov--if you are going to the dance--thought I'd see if you'd like to go with me?"

Natasha had waited patiently for this moment, she'd turned down half a dozen other offers and regarded Tony for a long moment. "I was thinking about going." She smiled. "I didn't expect you to ask me, Stark."

Stark smiled. "Meant to ask earlier--but things came up. I'll still bring you flowers, if you like."

"I'd hope so," she told him. "I like lilies."

"I can do lillies," Tony told her, smirking. "Favorite color?"

"I'll let you figure that one out for yourself," she said with a slightly challenging smile.

"I'll see what I can find out. You Slytherins aren't the only cunning ones around here."

 

 

 

Marianne Bonnefoy, a beauty from Slytherin, asked Bucky if he'd like to go with her.

He was caught in the face of the request because Marianne was probably one of--if not the--most beautiful girls in school. After a moment though he smiled at her, "Sure thing, I'd like that, Marianne." His heart hit an odd beat in his chest. It was only a dance after all.

Marianne smiled at him. "Excellent. Do you like pale blue?"

"Considering how good you'll look in it, I can't argue." He smiled charmingly at her.

Marianne beamed. "I look forward to it." She touched his elbow and went to go.

Bucky grinned dopily after her and punched the air as soon as she was gone. There was a cocky swagger in his step for the rest of the day.

Loki asked no one--he was not so good at this sort of thing. Miss Foster was being permitted onto school grounds for Thor.

 

 

 

Two nights before the Ball, the full moon came.

Bruce slipped off by himself to the Shrieking Shack--as an extra precaution. He sat there all night. He kept expecting it--the change to start. He kept expecting the pain, the horror, the hatred, the bloodlust.

It never came.

He looked out the window. Looked right at the goddamn full moon.

Nothing happened.

The enormity of this sunk in. Bruce Banner slid down the wall, sitting on the filthy wood slats. He cried into his knees.

 

 

 

They were all waiting for him to come back, all of them.

Charlotte bounced on her toes, practically vibrating with anticipation. "How did it go?" She tried to ask as calmly as she could.

Bruce nodded a little, still red-rimmed around the eyes. "It...seems to have...worked," ha managed, almost in a whisper.

She cheered ecstatically, jumping up in the air.

Thor grinned and clapped Bruce hard on the back, "Congratulations to you both!"

A low whistle came from Bucky. "Guess you really are some kind of genius, Stark." He was grinning openly.

Tony snorted. "Was there ever any doubt? I knew it would work."

Bruce embraced Charlotte, still looking stunned. He looked up at Thor and thanked him quietly. "I still can't quite believe it," he said. "Of course, it could still happen but..."

Steve smiled at them. "You know you two are about to become famous."

"You cured lycanthropy, Tony!" Charlotte told him, hanging onto Bruce in her excitement. "Just about, anyway." She beamed.

Bucky grinned, "Best be quick on that patent."

"I have to go tell Professor Beilschmidt," Tony said "I hope you found something nice to wear for the Ball, Bruce." He grinned.

Thor laughed, "I will see Bruce into presenting himself accordingly."

Bruce laughed, turning red. "I didn't think it would really work. I--haha, I don't have anything."

"Then we will find you something! My family has excellent connections." Thor promised.

 

 

Beilschmidt was waiting and at Tony's confirmation let out an excited whoop. "You genius, kid! Hah! You're going to be famous, trust me, everyone's going to love you!"

Tony beamed. "So how do we get a patent for this?"

"Come with me, my young apprentice--yes, I've seen Muggle movies--and I shall teach you the ways of bureaucracy. You will hate them," Beilschmidt snickered, reaching out and ruffling his hair up. "We start with a letter..."

She sat him at her desk, instructing him on what to write, to ask for the patent. Beilschmidt herself wrote a second letter, herself as a credited source to Tony's claim.

 "When will we get the results?" Tony asked, beaming.

 "Not long, I imagine once they've stopped squawking their heads off over your success being impossible, they'll send a investigative team right out to check your results--or ask you to go to the ministry. They'll want to talk to Bruce as well--as your successful test subject."

 Tony practically squealed with delight. "Oh, I can't wait!" He did an uncharacteristic little dance.

Word spread like wildfire throughout the school that Tony Stark and Bruce Banner now controlled lycanthropy. The spring in Tony's step got bigger and he sauntered up to Natasha Romanov with a fist full of red lilies. "I thought I would bring you some early," he said, smirking.

 Natasha's lips were painted red and her smile was one of pleasure. "You are a very clever boy, Tony Stark." She accepted them. "Congratulations on your success."

 "Oh, you heard, eh? You're about to go to the ball with the most famous student in the world." He bowed.

 "Everyone heard, Tony," she said, calling out his false modesty with amusement. "I better step up my game."

"Oh, don't worry. You're hot and smart. I have faith in you." He grinned.

 

 

 

The night of the ball Thor had Bruce up in his dormitory. He gave Bruce a black robe with dark gold accents and a dark gold vest. It was obviously Asgardian in make--the fabric rippled, seeming to move in patterns, dappling candlelight and constantly shifting--like liquid gold. And since no one would expect Bruce to be there, it would gather double the attention.

"You look very fine, my friend." Thor told him, looking downright kingly in regal gold and red. "Now, I must find Jane."

On the stairs Charlotte clapped in delight. Her dress was delicate pink in floating waves, one arm was threaded through Rob's. "You look good, Bruce."

Bruce always looked a little bit scruffy, a side effect of being a werewolf. So him being all cleaned up and dressed in such fine robes meant that at first no one recognized him. Bruce was unaccustomed to receiving attention and so he did not notice the double-takes from his fellow students and teachers. The effect it had was rather devastating.

Loki showed up with Caoimhe. He was dressed in dark green robes with silver embroidery. She was not his date--only there as friends--but the vampire looked regal, willowy and slender. He had gotten her some dark blue robes with silver embroidered waves on it for her to wear, off-setting her fire-red hair and freckles. He felt rather sorry for her because she was always stuck in Tony's lab. Kept like a relic, an artifact, a lab rat. She was interested in observing the students to see how much had changed since she had gone to Hogwarts herself.

Caoimhe caused a stir as no other students recognized her. Charlotte pulled Rob over to introduce her.

Bucky sauntered down the stairs in dark blue to contrast Marianne's chosen shade. Jealous looks were thrown his way as he walked arm in arm with Marianne. Tony showed up in dapper red and black, of course, with Natasha at his side. Steve showed up later. He did not have dress robes so he simply wore his school robes and stayed in the back of the room just to observe for a little bit. He wasn't dumb enough to ask anyone, after all.

He hung around awhile, watched Bucky dance with gorgeous Marianne Bonnefoy. He coughed into his arm--and figured he better not stay long. It was getting colder and three times, the fire had gone out in the hearth and left him gasping awake in the cold. He was getting sick again, he knew, but didn't want to tell a soul. Especially not now--when everyone was so happy for Bruce.

Bruce, looking shy and handsome as boys and girls came up to talk with him. Girls were giving him more lingering looks---he was tall, after all. Broad-shouldered and strong, Bruce was certainly friendly as well--just being a werewolf had driven others away.

"Look how humble he is," Tony scoffed. "It's disgusting."

Natasha laughed. "He's getting some well-deserved fawning done."

"Eugh, how can he just stand there and let them flatter him like that."

Natasha slowly turned her head to look at Tony. "Really?" she said. "Really?"

"What!"

 

 

 

Steve both admired Bruce and was deeply jealous. But he was happy for him.

The skinny boy jumped a little when Caoimhe appeared next to him. "C'mon. I will teach you," she said in her dry, lilting accent.

"I didn't say--"

"You don't know how to dance. I know it," she said, blandly.

She was taller than him and he felt awkward, like everyone was staring. She didn't seem to care at all--seeming to wear a mask rather like Loki did. Caoimhe took his hands, showing him how to stand and what to hold and gently led him around. He had good rhythm--at least. And when she heard the wheeze in his chest, she slowed down. "There, now I have taught you something to repay your kindness," she said.

Steve looked at her, mute.

Caoimhe grumbled and turned away. Steve smiled a little. She really was kind-hearted for a vampire. He headed back to the cottage.

After Caoimhe released Steve she was stopped by Beilschmidt, "Want to dance with me too, Miss Vamp?" she said soft and quiet so as not to be overheard. So far she'd wrangled Professor Jones and Braginski into a dance, followed even by tiny little Honda and flustered the Japanese woman terribly.

Caoimhe furrowed her eyebrows, looking at the albino woman. "You want to dance?" she asked. "With me?"

"Don't you?" Beilschmidt asked her. "Come on, I'm not too bad at it."

"....all right..." Caoimhe agreed slowly, looking around like someone might jump out and stake her in the heart.

"Enjoy the night before you go back to that lab," Beilschmidt assured her, taking one of Caoimhe's pale hand in hers and settling the other on her waist. "Be a shame to waste it."

Caoimhe nodded a little, watching the albino. She moved with her.

"So how come you stay?" Beilschmidt asked her as they made passes around the floor. "Never been tempted to take off into the Forest or anywhere?"

"...I have been trapped here for two hundred years. Things are likely very different now," Caoimhe said quietly. "The Forest has changed and those that I knew are gone."

"I figured you would hate the place with what was done to you there," she answered. "You like the kids?"

"..they released me when they did not have to. They could have killed me very easily. My cuffs were solid silver," she told the professor, looking up at her.

Beilschmidt hissed in soft sympathy. "Can't imagine how terrible that must have been. You must have a will of iron to come out of that."

Caoimhe made a non-committal noise. "Is there something you want from me? Something you want to really ask? I have to admit, professor--suddenly being asked to dance with you makes me a little suspicious."

"Well, first off, you are very hot, you know? So dancing with you is something I am completely on board with doing." Beilschmidt smiled at her and then laughed at the vampire's bewildered expression, "Secondly, okay, yeah. Thing is, those kids, they're growing up. Give it three years and they'll be out of here and I think you... you could do with reason to get out more. It's something to think about, that's all."

"And you are proposing that you have something to do with me getting out more?" she asked.

"We've had a werewolf teacher before, you know? Why not a vampire." Her eyes gleamed.

Caoimhe blinked. "Teach? Be a...teacher?" She asked--of anything she might have expected, it wasn't that. "Are you drunk?"

"Well, if you like history, because old Professor Binn's has finally decided to float on somewhere else at the end of this year." Beilschmidt grinned at her. "And maybe we can finally get the kids to start paying attention again."

Caoimhe looked around, expecting Beilschmidt to laugh. "Er, well...I suppose that would be...preferable to continuing to live in the laboratory..."

"Sure would, you get your own comfy quarters and an office. Get to give out and take house points, scare the little runts with detention." She grinned at her, spinning faster as the music picked up. "Think about it, alright? Told the headmaster I might have a replacement in mind."

Caoimhe moved with her. "All right, uh....I will. Uh....th-thank you," she said, uncertainly. She was grateful--just still surprised by the offer and the source of that offer.

"Good! Now dance with me for another song, then I gotta go on anti-canoodling duty. Hogwarts has a proud tradition of low teen pregnancy rates that must be upheld." Beilschmidt said, winking. "They never think of new hiding places."

 

 

Beilschmidt grinned and stepped back at the end, doing a little half bow-curtsey of her own improvising. "Thanks for the dance, you're pretty good. Lots of practice?"

"At one time, yes," Caoimhe said, stepping back. "I'm quite old." She smiled a little.

"One day you should tell me how old, I'm intrigued." she kept smiling at her, "I can get some blood lollipops in--those are a thing now, you know? We'll bond, it'll be awesome."

"That would be...nice," said the vampire. She turned away. Walking across the room, she almost ran right into Tony, who demanded to know what was going on and if everything was all right. She told him and shrugged.

The boy looked surprised. "Oh. Well. Good."

"It's a bit strange," Caoimhe said.

Beilschmidt rolled up her sleeves and took out her wand, heading outside with a too gleeful smile on her to blast rose bushes.

 

 

 

Marianne was teaching Bucky how to tango, her blue eyes and blond hair whirling with them. Other students were watching, dumbstruck. Bucky could take to it so well--and he looked so dashing and handsome. Marianne, of course, beautiful and seductive, the little bells sewn into her blue dress were tingling with their movements. And at the end of the song, she lightly kissed him. "We should go to Hogsmeade sometime, Mister Barnes."

Bucky was a quick learner, "How could I resist an offer like that?" He grinned at her. "It's a date."

"Perhaps next weekend?" Marianne asked him, putting a hand on his chest.

"Sure," he said smoothly, eyeing her red lips and golden waves of hair, her blue eyes... there was moment, a reminder of another pair of blue eyes before he refocused. "It'd be my pleasure."

Marianne took Bucky's hand. "Let's go back to the dungeon?"

"Yes, ma'am." He straightened up and escorted her back with a grin.

In their common room, she kissed him and might have done a little more if other students weren't filing in.

Bucky winked at her, took her hand and kissed her knuckles. "Till the weekend then." He watched her walk up into the girls' side with pleasure before walking back up to his own side.

Just wait till he told Steve about this!

 

 

 

Tony smoozed and flirted with Natasha the whole night, eventually walking her back to the dungeons.

She leaned in towards him, pressing her lips to his cheek before pulling away and slipping through the door with a sashay of her hips.

Tony grinned. "I do like her." He laughed to himself. "Stark, you done good. You done really good."

 Loki eventually ditched the party and went up to the Astronomy tower.

Caoimhe slowly made her way back up to the laboratory.

Bruce was exhausted---but pleased. Given usually two days after a full moon, he would still be down and sickly--this was a vast improvement. He should talk to Tony about what exactly would trigger a transformation--but for tonight--he walked on air.

 

 

 

The evening wound down, the teachers herded students who hadn't already left.

Charlotte reluctantly lingered at the stairs with Rob, leaning up before he could ask to exchange kisses that left her weak at the knees and wanting an unknown more.

Rob's thick Australian brogue muddled when she kissed him. He drew her in for another. "Say, what do you think about Quidditch? I know some nice spots behind the stands..." He grinned, tickling her sides.

A shiver ran through her slight frame, a curl in her lower abdomen. "I love Quidditch," she said breathlessly, then squeaked as he tickled her. "You cheeky 'roo!"

Robrick laughed. "Let me walk you back to your painting." He held her hand, laughing.

"O-okay." Charlotte blushed and held onto his hand, skipping a little beside him as they walked.

 

 

 

The next day was a Sunday and Bucky got an early start, wrapping up breakfast treats to go visit Steve in his cottage.

Steve got up slowly, heading for the door. He woke up a bit when he saw him. "Oh, hey, Bucky--how'd it go last night?"

"Great! That Marianne, man. Steve, she's like some kind of killer." He let out a low whistle, "I brought breakfast offerings." He held up the napkins and bowed comically.

"Thanks. Come in," he said. "Put it on the table. Tell me about her," he said with a smile. He went to stoke the fireplace and change into some day clothes, jeans and a t-shirt.

Bucky threw himself back into an oversized chair, somehow managing to take up all the space in a sprawl of limbs. "Well, for starters," his hands painted a clear hourglass in the air. "And her hair it's like... so blonde, and her eyes, they're this blue..." he grinned, "Think she really likes me if the kisses are anything to go by."

Steve started a little, looking at him. "Wow...she must have been pretty impressed by you."

"Guess this old mug ain't half bad." Bucky cupped his chin thoughtfully. "Wants me to go with her to Hogsmeade next weekend."

Steve smiled. "You should. You gotta experience everything you can, Bucky. She's beautiful. You should go."

"I am," Bucky assured him with a smile. "Hey, I saw you dancing with Caoimhe, you were doing pretty good."

He snorted. "She was teaching me. She's real good."

"Well, you picked it up pretty good," he told him, "Saw that fancy footwork, Rogers." Bucky grinned.

"Ha, maybe one day I'll teach you." He winked, laughing. 

"Wouldn't mind that."

He drank some juice to wash down a cough. "Hogsmeade will be really something--with all the snow and Christmas lights up."

Bucky sat forward, "Oh yeah, you bet. I can't wait for Christmas. Hey, do you want to come back home with me?"

"No, no worries," Steve said, smiling. "I kind of wanted to stay here, doesn't snow much down south. I like it."

"You sure?" Bucky asked him. "We get a proper turkey and everything, all the trimmings. You'll miss out on my ma's stuffing."

"You'll have to bring me some back. I'm sure," Steve told him. "Tell your brothers and sisters I said hi. Will you leave next Monday?"

"I'll try." he said, expression softening. "I will do. You know Becca loves you." Bucky's younger sister who had followed Steve around with puppy eyes the first summer he visited asking him all about the Muggle world. "Should do."

"Is she coming to Hogwarts soon?" he asked.

"Next year." Bucky grinned. "She can't wait, tried to sneak on the train this year."

"Well, she'll have plenty of big brothers and sisters to look out for her." He smiled.

Becca was charming in that--he knew he was scrawny--so she didn't have a crush. She was just so fascinated by the Muggle world. "Wait until she meets Tony if she wants to know about the Muggle side."

"I dread the day." He rolled his eyes. "Nah, Tony's not so bad really. Course now he's going to be famous."

"Tony means well--just, he's well--yeah." He laughed. "Him and Bruce both. He said that the Ministry would send out someone to have a look at his materials--he's going to be spending the entirety of winter break at the Ministry. His mom and dad are even coming to the Wizard side to watch."

"His dad's some big shot in the Muggle world, isn't he? Bet he'll be proud." he nodded. "Best make sure we stay friends, Steve, we'll probably end up working for the guy after we finish school."

Steve laughed. "Yeah--Stark Industries is incredible--amazing inventions. How did everyone else do last night?"

"Well Natasha let Tony walk her back to the dorms so I'll take that as a good sign. Bruce looked pleased as punch the last time I saw him. Thor and Jane's a foregone conclusion and Loki... he disappeared at some point, not sure where." Bucky snagged a croissant to chew. "That Rob-guy and Charlotte, she seemed swept off her feet. Should we threaten 'im?"

"Yeah, we should definitely threaten him. He's the one from Sydney--moved to England about five years ago. We should definitely threatened him." He grinned.

"Knew I could count on you, Steve. We do that before Christmas break, mission." He laughed.

"Maybe you should get Bruce to go with you--I think Rob is about two feet taller than me--but you two should do well." He ate a little, getting up again to put more wood on the fire. He picked up another sweater, pulling it on. He'd found it in a donation bin in the storage areas of the basement, where students could discard things they no longer needed. Steve was there often, picking through other students' trash. The sweaters were handy, as the winters here were so cold--and the night promised to be colder.

"Yeah, but you talk smack better. How about we three-man it?" He smiled and then tilted his head as he noticed Steve pulling on that sweater. "You're cold. This place not warm enough?" Bucky sat up.

"All right, sure. I'll do the talking. You two just stand behind me like mobsters. I'll tell him we'll make him an offer he can't refuse--or we'll cut off his dingo's head or something." Steve looked at him and shook his head. "I'm fine--layers, you know." He smiled.

Bucky snickered, "See?" Then he continued, looking concerned. "Look, hey... if it gets too cold down here come back and stay in the dorms again. The House Elves keep them toasty an' the kitchens are right next door to Hufflepuff."

"I like it out here. I'll be fine, Buck." He smiled.

"It's just... you always catch colds. Do me a favour and promise you won't stay down here all alone if you start getting sick, alright?" Bucky looked at him, slipping off the chair.

Steve walked over to the fireplace. "Yeah, of course," he said absently, busying himself at the hearth. "I'll be fine. Don't worry about me."

"Hey." Bucky crouched down next to him, his eyes seeking Steve's. "I mean it. I know you can look after yourself--just for me, Stevie."

Steve looked at him. He summoned it--that smile. He beamed at Bucky. "I'll be fine. But if I'm not--I promise, I'll go to the infirmary."

"Good." His hand rested on his friend's shoulder, slim fingers squeezing lightly. "I'm gonna miss you over the break, jerk."

"You too, you moron," he said and he embraced him.

"Yeah." Bucky swallowed, hugging him tightly to him. His fingers brushed through Steve's hair and he pressed an impulsive kiss to his temple.

Steve looked up at him when Buck kissed his temple. He smiled crookedly.

His friend looked back down at him, smiling back faintly. His fingers brushed Steve's jaw as he pressed the next kiss to his mouth lightly.

He felt a twist--what about Marianne...? But he kissed back anyway, a little greedy, kissing Buck harder--taking what he could. _Taking--because this was physical, wasn't it? Maybe only physical. They were only fifteen, after all._

Bucky had that thought too and at the same time he didn't... he wasn't sure. Marianne was Marianne and he wanted her but Steve was--well, Steve and they did this. He shivered as Steve kissed him harder, tasted orange juice on the smaller boy's lips as his own opened, giving.

Steve held onto him, shuddering. Bucky was always so warm--such a contrast to his constant cold.

"Yeah..." he wrapped his arms around Steve as he plonked himself down next to the hearth, pulling him onto his lap. "I want to keep you warm."

Steve folded down into his lap. "I...I, y-yeah..." he said, almost in a whisper, shy.

Bucky hummed comfortably, his lips going down to Steve's neck, breathing in the scent of soap on his skin. He scattered kisses across that tempting expanse of pale skin.

Steve tipped his head aside, shuddering again. His sweaters prickled. His fingers grabbing into Buck's shoulders.

Slim fingers were wriggling under those sweaters, getting under the fabric to Steve's skin and tracing his ribs and back, running down his spine. Bucky kissed again and then bit lightly, sucked hard at a patch of skin.

Steve's spine arched. Shivers raced up his spine. "Ah..." he murmured, his fingers running up into Bucky's hair, encouraging his touch, his mouth, everything

"Damn," he mumbled, tongue swiping over the spot he'd just marked. "S'okay, Steve." Bucky moved one hand down, undoing Steve's trousers after a couple fumbles and worked them open so he could slip that hand inside. "I gotcha."

"Ah--" Steve breathed, kissed him hard.

"I--" he was cut off, Steve's mouth pressing hard and insistent on his own while his hand was busy in Steve's trousers, hand working over him.

Steve jerked his jeans open, reaching in for Bucky. Taking his length in both his hands. He groaned, stroking along with him.

Bucky moaned into his mouth, gasping as those wonderful slim fingers touched him. His one hand pumped up and down Steve's shaft, the other busy rubbing over his chest, fingers brushing his nipples.

Steve massaged him, pulling at Bucky's shirt to get it open. He leaned in and kissed his collarbones...and then his nipple.

"Steve, shit," he mumbled, Bucky looked down, watching with hungry eyes at Steve's every move, his thumb rubbing the head of his cock.

Steve flicked his tongue--and then sucked. He grunted, one eye squinting shut at Buck's touch.

A keening sound worked its way out of his throat, he swallowed and kept his hand moving steadily. "That feels, ah, good."

Steve looked up, making an affirming sound as he sucked, continuing to stroke Bucky. He felt himself stiffening up into Bucky's fist, groaning.

"Steve, Steve..." he spoke into his hair, coming with sudden force into his hand. It took even Bucky by surprise. "Ung!"

Steve stared up at him--face seeming hollow in the firelight. It gave Bucky a strange start, like seeing a Holocaust victim. Steve managed to get up, pulling Bucky towards his bed.

Bucky stumbled up after him, his hand held tight to Steve's. He felt uncoordinated in the wake of his orgasm, coltish like he might tumble over at any minute. He fell into the bed and reached for Steve again.

Steve pushed his shirt off, put it aside. He explored Bucky's chest with his fingers, touching his nipples again.

"Hey," Bucky murmured, watching him then. His hands ran up and down Steve's arms, exploring wrists and elbows and shoulders with birdlike structure; fascinating in their delicacy.

Steve did not answer. He pushed Bucky's jeans down, looking at him. He felt the touch, the soothing strength in Bucky's hands. He went down, instead--hold Bucky's length and leaning down to it. He flicked it with his tongue and then took it in his mouth.

"Steve--" his eyes went wide. His cock, soft from coming, suddenly twitched back to life again in the face of what he was seeing--and _ohgodfeeling_! Steve's mouth around him. "Shit!" his fingers curled in Steve's hair.

His thin cheeks hollowed, sucking on him, eyes staring up at him while he did it.

"Ah, ahhh..." he arched his back, tried to keep his hips flat on the bed and not rock upwards. He couldn't hurt Steve, couldn't risk choking him. "Oh fuck...."

Steve held onto him, eyes going back down to concentrate and sucking.

A few minutes of this was more than he could stand, "Steve, Stevie, I'm gonna, you gotta--" he tugged on Steve's hair to get him to pull back as he felt himself coming again.

Steve held onto him. The taste was strange, salty, made his stomach turn--his stupid weak body. But goddammit, he waited until Bucky was finished and then pulled up, panting and coughing a bit. He sat up on his knees, looking down at his friend.

Bucky breathed hard, sweat running down his skin. He gaped up at Steve, eyes running to his reddened mouth, spit slick. "Are you okay?" he reached up, cupping his face, "Are you..." he pulled him down to kiss him.

Steve went down at his urging, leaning on an elbow, kissing him hard.

Bucky's hand took his cock again, stroking faster now, determined to make him come too.

Steve twitched--he came in Bucky's fingers, screwing his eyes shut--completely silent.

"Damn, do you... you should see how you look when you come, Steve. It's something," Bucky murmured, pulling him into an embrace.

Steve held onto him. "I'll leave that to you," he murmured. That sickening coldness in his stomach surfaced again--it had nothing to do with being sick.

 

 

 

That week, they took final exams and Marianne met Bucky at Hogwarts' gate, dressed in eggshell blue with a matching scarf.

Bucky straightened up his clothing, styled back his hair into something he considered dashing and walked down to meet her. "You look good in blue. I said it before but I'll say it again."

"Do keep saying," she said and winked.

"We'll see how the day goes." Bucky chuckled, offering her his arm as they walked down through the snowy streets. "Three Broomsticks?"

 

Rob and Charlotte were also on their way down to Hogsmeade. Charlotte hung onto Rob's arm, she looked particularly adorable wrapped up in a sunny yellow coat and white scarf, her wellies had flowers on them. She chattered happily, talking about Christmas plans, telling Rob about the farm she'd grown up on. As they passed a wall she picked up a handful of snow and jumped up to rub it in his hair.

Several other couples were going down as well. Tony was prepping his presentations--but he made time to make sure he took Natasha down for the day.

The redhead was dressed classily and had no problem navigating the snow. "Russian," she explained to Tony.

"I didn't ask. But thanks. I've been to upstate New York. Plenty of snow there too."

Bruce watched the couples spread out before heading out into the halls. He went to the lab--where he found Loki. The two of them sat together, drinking stolen butterbeers.

 

Steve stayed in the cottage. He tried to keep the fire burning hot and big--he was getting worse. He could feel it. He would be all right. He hated the infirmary. He wanted everyone to have a good time. Part of him felt possessive over Bucky....but that wasn't good either. That...was bad. Bad. He wanted Bucky to be happy, after all. And he sincerely wanted him to try things.

Monday rolled around soon enough. Steve found himself the recipient of a small mountain of presents.

"No opening until Christmas Day," Charlotte warned him and gave him a hug before going to climb on the train, hand in hand with Rob.

The hug Bucky gave him was tight and lasting just a little longer. "Keep warm, punk." He flicked his nose gently as he pulled away. "I'll send you an owl."

Steve watched them. Rob was going home with Charlotte for Christmas. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Be good, take all the stupid with you."

"Well that'll be hard, won't leave you with much if I do." Bucky backed onto the train, looking at Steve until the train whistle sounded and he had to jump on.

Steve wandered back to the cottage. He stayed there, allowing the tension to relax and made tea with whiskey as the pneumonia descended fully.


	7. O Brother, Where Shoot Thou

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint Barton and stuff
> 
> \---
> 
> 8/25/2016 And I'm doing some editing because wow, there are so many grammar mistakes in this. The person I worked on this with...we don't really talk anymore--but I'll see if I can't finish this after I've finished cleaning it up.

Charlotte held Rob's hand a little nervously. Her parents had agreed to let him come stay, they'd seemed interested in meeting him from all her letters. She really hoped they liked him and he liked the farm. It'd be awful if he was bored by it but he loved animals about as much as she did so surely even normal none-magical animals would keep him interested. And her, she'd keep him interested.

Her dad met them at King's Cross and they climbed into his truck. Charlotte could see him eyeing Rob up as he started the engine and began the process of getting them out of London and back to the Surrey countryside but his questions were polite, asking them how school had been going and about the exams. He'd be staying in the guest room, her father told him with a little more emphasis than was strictly necessary.

"Of course, Mister Dale--I expected that."

"Well then I'll hope you'll understand when I say I'll be asking you to help out here and there. Farm's take a lot of handling, young man." he told him.

"Of course--I lived in Australia until five years ago--I'm used to ranch work. My father had horses. I can help whenever you need me."

"Daddy." Charlotte pursed her lips at him and squawked when he ruffled her hair. 

 

The farm was a reasonable size. Mostly pasture for sheep and some dairy cows, they had a couple horses, chickens and ducks too. Three sheepdogs bounded over enthusiastically to meet them. "Kiwi, Skye and Jess." Charlotte introduced Rob to them.

Charlotte's mother took to Rob like a duck to water. Clearly, she was the one who Charlotte had inherited her easy-going nature from. She was a plump cheerful woman who filled plates with homemade pie and mashed potato.

After dinner, Charlotte was allowed to take him up into her room and sit, talking softly. She put on the television and let them lay out on the bed together, 'curfew' (when Rob had to vacate her room) was at eleven. "Sorry about Dad, he's protective."

"i'd rather him be protective of you," Rob said. "I know I would be if I had a daughter as cute as you."

She blushed, "You're terrible." Her fist lightly punched his shoulder. "You just want me for my farm."

He laughed. "Oh, you saw right through me. I look at your hair and all I can think of are lovely, fluff lambs."

Charlotte giggled, kissing him back as she curled up into his side. "Scruffy stable boys always come after the wealthy heiress," she said with mock-seriousness.

"Or maybe you lured me here--for my farmboy sensibilities?"

"Me!" she gasped, "How could you accuse me of such deviousness?" Charlotte asked him, their noses brushing. "I am an innocent party."

"Maybe you thought I'd corner you in the barn," he said, voice dropping an octave lower. "Have my filthy, Australian scrubby farmboy way with you--with you, the perfect little New Zealander-native lady."

The intake of breath was louder than she would have liked it to bed, her cheeks lit up red under her dusky skin. "Is... is that the kind of thing you think about?"

He blinked, paused in his position over her. "Uh--well...I...." He smiled a little helplessly. "I mean no disrespect."

"No, no disrespect. I just..." she smiled sort of helplessly, bare toes curling on the sheets. "It's sort of the opposite of offensive."

He smiled a little. "Good...I mean, you're--you're cute. As a button. And well, you know. Growing boy or something. Just don't tell your dad. Or your friends--I was read a variety of riot acts before I left with you. From one Rogers, Barnes and Banner. A three-man strike team."

"Oh my God, they didn't!" She looked at him and then then laughed, "They did. Of course they did." Charlotte giggled, "Well, I wouldn't tell on you to them either."

He grinned. "You've got some good friends. " His eyebrows raised. "Of course, they were nothing compared to that creepy woman--I think she was a vampire. She appeared out the wall and said she knew you. Curly red hair and glowing spooky eyes."

"Caoimhe approached you?"

"I guess so. Told me what would happen. In detail. Honestly--it was good to hear it. I mean--that sounds weird--but hearing girls defend each other. I mean--because you hang around with a lot of guys, there was talk that you were, uh--with. Several of them."

"But I'm not! We're all just friends."

Rob shrugged. "I know that--but other people don't. The guys you hang around with are pretty popular with the girls--except for Rogers, poor guy. And Banner, though that might change now."

"Well, I won't tell on you to Caoimhe either."

"Oh good. I'm glad to hear that..." his voice dipped low again and he leaned over her, kissing her mouth.

Charlotte chewed her lip a little just before his mouth connected with hers. Her arm slipped around his neck and broad shoulders, pressing back into the kiss. The coil in her stomach was there, the one that kept happening everytime they indulged in anything beyond a single kiss.

In the afternoon the next day, they were released from chores to do what they wanted. "My brother should be home soon."

Rob wiped his forehead, smearing dirt on his face. "Your brother? I didn't know you had a brother."

"Oh yeah, sorry I guess I didn't mention him. He doesn't go to Hogwarts. He goes to a local school." Her fingers brushing his arm. "His name's Clint Barton and, well, I'll tell you--he's adopted. It's a bit obvious when you see him. He's sixteen, he's nice."

"Oh--he has no magic then?" Rob asked.

"He does. He goes to a small magic school. He just... he does better with less people around," she said. "He kind of had it rough before he came to stay with us."

Rob raised his eyebrows. "Should...I be careful?" he asked.

"No, no--" Charlotte said quickly. "He's just...parents are gone, his brother abandoned him, he grew up with a circus...but then while he was there...someone used an Unforgivable on him. Invaded his mind," Charlotte said quietly, looking aside. "He's had some hard times."

 

Clint would arrive the next morning. His German Shepherd, Trick Shot, at his heels. He petted him, stepping off the bus he'd taken to the town's station. He touched his jacket, scanning around as usual. When he walked onto the farm, Trick Shot's ears went up. "What is it, Trick?"

Trick Shot barked once and then took to sniffing, leading him into the house to the kitchen. Ah, there was Charlotte, her parents and....

He straightened a little, eyes narrowing at the boy. "Who are you?"

Charlotte dashed over as the other dogs barked and wagged their tails, sniffing happily at Trick shot. "Clint!" she hugged him. "This is Rob, he's my--well, he's my boyfriend, he's staying for Christmas."

Clint hugged her, mussing her hair. "Your boyfriend?" he said, wrinkling his nose. "From Hogwarts?"

Rob stood. "Hi, I'm Robrick Wilson." He reached out a hand.

Clint looked him over and then shook, gripping tight. "Has he been nice to you, Charlie?"

"Yeah. He's in Gryffindor." She laughed. "Remember I told you about the Houses, right? He's been a gentleman." Charlotte grinned.

Clint very obviously was sizing Rob up. "I think I could still take him."

Rob's eyebrows went up and he straightened.

And then Clint relented, smiled. "But if Charlotte likes you--I'll let it pass. If she gets a bruise on her, though, I'll turn you inside out. Obligatory older brother comments. Good?" His eyes twinkled.

"Good," Rob said. "I would hope so." This guy had a sense of humor dryer than the Mojave Desert.

"Cliiiiiint!" Charlotte huffed, failing to hide a grin as she did so.

Her father snorted, giving his adopted son an approving smile, "Welcome home, Clint."

"Lunch in an hour, sweetheart." Their mother came and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "We want to hear all about school."

Clint shook Lawrence Dale's hand. "Do you need any help around or has this Rob guy been making himself useful?"

"Relatively, Clint. Relax a little."

Clint had been living with them for almost two years and he still never quite got used to Lottie's mother's easy affection. She treated him like her own son. Considering the broken young man he'd come to them as, it was still rather a surprise for him. "Do you need any help?" he asked her mother.

Fern smiled and patted his arm, "Thank you for offering, Clint but why don't you go put your bag away and get to know Rob a little more? I've got things under control."

"All right, Fern..." he eyed Rob again as he turned to leave, using two fingers to point at his own blue eyes and then using those same two fingers to point at Rob. "Eyes on you, Banana Bender."

Rob burst out laughing, not expecting that. His laugh was a booming bellow, loud and cheerful.

"Clint!" Charlotte gasped again, punching his arm lightly but Rob was laughing and she did too. "Don't pick on my boyfriend!"

"If he's your boyfriend, then me picking on him is the least of his worries. I'm being nice right now." 

Trick Shot gave a happy chuff and went to follow Clint. He would return in a half hour. Showered, clean, wearing different clothes. "Gave Trick a bath while I was in there," he announced to Lawrence and Fern--as if the smell of lemon shampoo radiating off of Trick Shot didn't give it away. "He shouldn't smell like dust anymore." 

Skye took one sniff of Trick and let off a high yap of confusion which brought the other two Border Collies crowding round, finally sending a small dog herd piling round the kitchen.

Lunch came in the form of piles of sandwiches, juice or tea and fresh fruit. "Now," Fern led the conversation, as getting Clint to talk about himself had been difficult at with. But she'd had a lot of practice and she drew Rob and Charlotte in as well so he didn't feel like he was being singled out in any way.

Clint leaned on his elbows as he ate, listening to them talk about Hogwarts--and then Fern was looking to him to talk about Hereck's School for Wizards. "It's a small place--nothing like Hogwarts--they didn't want me going there right away--cause I had a warlock infesting my brain for awhile," he said casually. "So I'm going there to catch up to my year--which would be fifth or sixth or whatever. And then they said they'd take my application to transfer to Hogwarts. Sent it in last week," he added, when Lawrence looked at him questioningly. "So I should find out in a few days, I guess. Hereck's is for boys--the girls' school is across the campus. Same name, different gender specification."

"I don't know anything about other wizarding schools--that sounds interesting," Rob said honestly.

"Yeah, well, I'm sure Hogwarts is better and all. Hereck's lets me practice with my bow so long as I stay in the back. Too small for a Quidditch team. Not that I'd join."

"A bow?" Rob asked. 

"Yeah...grew up learning archery. Pretty decent at it, I think. Like to keep sharp."

Trick Shot walked up and licked Rob's hand, prompting him to pet him.

"You should see it! It's amazing. Oh, could you show Rob, Clint? Please?" She asked him turning a big eyed look on Clint that should really be patented for warfare.

Clint sighed. "I...guess. If he wants to see boring Muggle archery."

"It's not boring. Its useful. Besides--you would be an excellent Seeker if you're as good as you say."

Clint huffed. "Well, now I have to show you, I guess." 

He led them out into the yard around the back of the house. A large field had been set aside generously by Lawrence. Clint went to the shed, removing three of his bows. "I'm okay at it," he said.

He picked up the long bow first and drew back. His muscles bunched and then flexed, pulling all the weight back. He had barely sighted a moment when he let fly. The arrow smashed into the target, sticking through half of it.

"Shut up, Clint, you're great!" Charlotte insisted, jumping up to sit on the fence and knocking off what light dusting of snow had fallen. She watched eagerly and then cheered when the arrow hit. "See! He could go to the Olympics!"

"Wow, you are good. If you come to Hogwarts--you should definitely be a Seeker."

Clint shrugged. "Eh, not interested." He picked up the regular bow and did the same, quickfire shots, smashing into the wooden targets.

Charlotte clapped and then looped her arms around Rob's neck from behind. "He let me try a few times, I'm no good at it though. I managed to hit the ground only."

"Well--I imagine it takes a lot of skill and practice. You didn't grow up doing it, Lots." Rob hooked his arms under her kneecaps and picked her up onto his back for a piggyback ride.

Clint looked at the two of them and couldn't seem to help a little smile.

 

 

Many miles away, Steve laid in bed. Blearily, his eyes focused on the hearth. He was cold--but he could see the hearth was blazing. Chills, coughing, his fever was rising--everything to indicate another bout of pneumonia for him. Pain was starting to stab into his left lung. He slipped in and out of dream and delusion.

His mother was there, then his father, Loki turning strange and blue, Bucky kissing Marianne. Everyone melted together in blood and flesh.

 

 

At the Ministry, Tony Stark and Bruce Banner stood with researches and experts--he explained his method, the testing. There with Beilschmidt--as the adult witness and person able to validate his theory and concoction. 

They were eager to patent it--so that they could buy into it to begin more extensive testing of the formula. Rumors were already buzzing about the genius Fourth year student from Ravenclaw and his Fifth year werewolf friend who could now control his transformations. 

"The trigger to do it himself will be intense emotion--and so there is a chance that, at first, they will be spontaneous. But, Bruce is fairly mild-mannered. Rage would trigger it for him. Most werewolves, from what I know, must learn to keep control of their emotions anyway--or else risk giving in to the bestial side of their condition. Sex, joy, excitement--that is not a trigger. But rage, terror--they can be triggers. The Fight or Flight mechanism, you understand. It will likely be a little different for each subject but when it comes to axial polarity and the trigger of the werewolf hormone--the potion produces a thin lining of mercury in the stomach---typically deadly to humans but not werewolves. And that helps them achieve the selective transformation. Mercury and its properties appear to be able to integrate as a substitute for the genetic material that is destroyed when the Lycanthopic virus invades the body. I charmed the mercury, of course--and only a tiny amount is used." He opened up Bruce's notebook. "This is Banner's collection of notes. He's a better note-keeper than me. These are the formulas we came up with."

"So short of stepping on Banner's toes we won't be able to trigger a transformation to show you right now." Beilschmidt said smoothly, "We will inform you as soon as it happens of course."

"And when it does--he will get the feel for it and be able to bring them on himself. But Bruce has been through two full moon cycles with no transformations."

A lawyer was contracted to draw up the patent and an offer of a contract with the Ministry for the use of the formula.

Howard Stark approached and he sat with the boys, going over the contract. He looked insurmountably proud of his son. "And you," he said to Banner. "You are ballsy as hell. Good for you, lad. We'll make sure you're taken care of." He clapped the large boy on the shoulder.

Tony signed and his father signed under it-as his legal guardian and financial adviser. Under it, Bruce signed and a Stark lawyer signed as his financial adviser. Bruce felt like butterflies were riding bumper cars in his stomach--still unable to believe it. This was happening. He and his father would not want for money after this...

"Fifteen and earning your own money already, Tony. You are so damn smart. You and Banner--gonna make a bundle of dough." Howard Stark ruffled Tony's hair. "Keep showing 'em who's boss, champ."

Notes would go out in every newspaper across Great Britain--trials were opening for widespread testing of Stark-Banner Serum. All werewolves were encouraged to apply.

"Hell of a boy you have, Mister Stark," Beilschmidt came to shake his hand. "We're very lucky to have him."

"You're damn right. I was concerned at first when I received his letter--I've heard rumors of this place--but didn't give it much thought. But I'm glad my boy is integrating so well. I know he probably causes quite a bit of trouble."

"I find him an absolute delight but I can't say he hasn't had his share of detentions." she chuckled. "I don't think there's been a smarter child since Hermione Granger. He makes me feel like an amateur sometimes."

Howard beamed. "He can be difficult--unusually self-aware as a child--made him a nightmare sometimes. Well, not even sometimes. All the time. I'm glad he has such good teachers."

"He reminds me of myself and my brother when we were young. He needs a straightforward approach is all, he's too intelligent for anything else." she beamed at him.

"He hates being treated like a child--even though he excels at acting out like one. But you have been a good influence---and so has Bruce Banner. He won't admit it to anyone--but I think he rather looks at Banner like an older brother."

Beilschmidt chuckled good-naturedly, "I think so too. Your boy is going to be just fine, Mister Stark, I don't think we've seen the best of him yet."

Bruce's father showed up a bit later. He embraced his son, eyes watery, fingers tangling in Bruce's hair. "It's true then?"

Bruce's good-natured smile, that mask, it cracked a little when he looked into his father's face. "Yes, Dad."

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, wiping his cheek.

Bruce shook his head and looked down. "It would have killed you if it hadn't worked...."

Mister Banner's eyes went down too. "Your mother, Bruce--she'd be so proud of you."

His brown eyes flicked up. "Tony was--"

"You worked on it too--I looked at the notebook. You both did this. You've helped werewolves all over who deal with prejudice, distrust and hatred. Bruce, if we find your mother--"

"Dad--"

"--we can help her."

"Dad..." Bruce looked away. "Dad...you know that she's...probably dead. Gone."

Mister Banner's shoulders hitched a little, that haunted strain coming back into his eyes. "It's possible--but there's always a chance that she's...out there somewhere...needing help."

Bruce rolled his shoulder to wipe his right eye. "I....yeah, Dad. Maybe." He had a lump in his throat, it was hard to swallow around it.

 

 

Bucky whistled when on Decrmber twenty-third, the paper was on the dining table featuring a fully moving photograph of Bruce and Tony together. "Clever bastard."

"James!"

"Sorry mum!" he yelled back into the kitchen and continued writing to Steve, now adding a full paragraph about the newspaper article to the letter. He was sending the family owl out with an extra box of chocolate frogs for his friend. That was in addition to the pile of art supplies already sat under Steve's tree.

In the photo, Tony was smiling and shaking hands with the Prime Minister. Bruce was looking shyly away from the camera, fidgeting with his robe.

When the Barnes family owl arrived, it pecked hard at Steve's window and then managed to get in through the dog door. Steve stared at the bird, glassy-eyed and not sure if it was actually there. "Mom...there's a bird..." he murmured.

The bird dropped the note off. It waited, seemingly for Steve to read the note. Steve faded out and when he awoke again, the bird was still there. He pulled some parchment to himself, writing, _Thanks_ \--in his shaky script. He attached it to the bird. "Sorry...bird," he murmured. He didn't have the energy to read it right now.

The next day was Christmas Eve--he knew that, of course, but the hurt and loss of his mother reared up severe and ugly. He did not even try to get up, even when the fire went out. He spent most of the day having imaginary conversations with Sarah--half-convinced she was actually there as his fever climbed higher.

That night, when the cold became unbearable, he got up and stoked the fire again. Laid down--he didn't open his presents. He couldn't just yet.

 

 

 

Bucky received the note and... and it wasn't right. The writing, just the one word reply. That wasn't like Steve. 

By the time it was Christmas Eve he made up his mind and waited until all his family was asleep (a feat) and threw a handful of floo powder on the fire. He was convinced the hut would still be connected to the network. "Hagrid's Hut, Hogwarts," Bucky said brazenly and stuck his head into the green flames.

"Steve?"

Steve was lying in bed. He looked around, blinking hard. His eyes were red-rimmed and bleary. "Mom?" he murmured.

"What? Hey no, it's me." What the hell, he came through the fire completely. "Jesus fuck, it's cold in here." Bucky went to the bed, his eyes wide with concern. "Steve!" his hand touched his friend's forehead.

Steve was burning with fever. "M'all right," he recited, as if on reflex. "Get it all the time in winter."

"You're boiling hot!" Bucky protested. "I told you to go back up to the dorms." He went back to the fire, throwing more fuel onto it and stoking the flames higher.

"No...no..." Steve murmured. "Can't...it's big...silence...get pneumonia every year....remember, Mom. I get it every year."

"Aw Steve..." Bucky felt his heart wrench in that moment. He walked back over to the bed, lifted up the blankets and slipped under them beside him. "It's me, it's Bucky."

"No...don't tell Buck...doesn't need to worry...get this every year. I'll be all right..." he murmured. There was quiet for a moment. And then, "I can look after myself...don't plan on dyin' alone like you..." He murmured something else in this conversation he was apparently having with his mother but it was mostly slurred, unintelligible. He shivered, despite his spiking fever. And then coughed loud, phlegm, brownish-green, bloodstained and thick. His lungs sounded so wet and heavy. "It's okay though....if I do...cause then...be with..." More quiet, silently moving lips. "Sometimes I want to...but...think the sickness will kill me first....letters? What letters....?"

"Steve..." Bucky's eyes widened. He grabbed a corner of the sheet and wiped at his friend's mouth. Warming him under the covers wasn't going to be enough for this. "Hang on, hang on, Stevie, I'm gonna get someone!"

He pulled away. Shit, no floo powder on Steve's end. He hadn't thought this out very well. Bucky cursed, "Just...don't...don't die, Steve." He braced himself to run up to the castle.

Steve didn't seem to realize he had been there. "Be fine..." he murmured. 

 

 

 

Bucky braced himself and forged out through the ice and snow, feeling the cold seize at his limbs immediately. He wasn't dressed for this. The going seemed so painfully slow, every second ticked away in his head that Steve might be getting worse, could be dying! By the time he reached the main doors with fingers barely able to grasp the handles he was shaking badly, teeth chattering away. "Professors! Somebody!"

A ghost, even that stupid poltergeist, anyone would do! "HELP! HELP!" He stumbled into the Great Hall. Inside the castle--a few of the professors were talking in the Great Hall with the Headmaster about Beilschmidt's proposal to have Caoimhe take over History of Magic.

Honda looked over with startled eyes, "Barnes!" she stood up.

Jones stood as well. "Barnes--what are you doing here? There's a blizzard outside--why are you in pajamas! Come to the fire, lad. What's wrong?"

"It's Steve!" He managed, standing trembling in the doorway, his eyes wide. "I think he's dying!" 

Honda cast a sharp look at the other professors. "Calm down, he--"

"He's really sick! I floo'd over because he didn't write back like Steve would! You have to come!"

"Dying?" Jones started towards him. "What do you mean?"

"He coughed up blood!"

Braginski got up as well. "Is he in his cottage?"

Bucky looked at Professor Braginski with pleading eyes, "Yes!"

Honda came forward, "The others will go see, come to the fire--"

"Please, please go help him," the boy pleaded.

Braginski touched his shoulders. "Calm down. Go and sit with Professor Honda--we will go and see."

"But--"

Honda put her arm around him, gentle but firm, pulling Bucky over to the fire. "He'll be alright." He went reluctantly, shaking badly as he got next to the warmth and sneezing reflexively.

The two men went out into the blizzard, thumping into Hagrid's old hut. 

"Rogers?" said Jones.

"They're in there," Steve murmured. "The McGareth boys, Mom--in the alley. I talked to their sister."

Braginski touched his forehead. He looked at Jones and nodded.

Jones' mouth became a thin line. He wrapped the boy in his quilt and put his face into his shoulder to protect it from the snow. "Walk in front of me?" Jones requested. "You're bigger than me--need a windblocker."

Braginski nodded and silently, they headed back. Too many minutes for Jones' taste but they broke through the snow, back into the Great Hall. They slowed as they headed for the stairs, catching their breath that the blizzard had whisked away from them. They headed straight for the infirmary, sending an older student ahead of them--Erskine, Jones remembered, to warn the nurse. Madelaine Williams stood, adjusting her glasses when they entered. She frowned. "Is it Rogers again?"

Braginski nodded. "It is...looks like pneumonia."

Jones laid the boy down and Williams went to him, listening to his chest. "Yes...I'll start him on a drip and antibiotics. It did say in his records--he's prone to seasonal pneumonia."

Erskine stood just inside the doorway, watching the adults. He knew of little Rogers--heart of a lion, body of a mouse. Poor kid. His eyebrows furrowed.

As soon as they came back in Bucky tore himself away from the fire, running at their heels. "Steve!" Honda came up after him. "Is he going to be okay?! Is he dying? Please, he's not dying is he?"

Williams looked at Bucky, then at Braginski.

Jones shook his head. "Don't make him leave--he'll wear a damn hole in the stone if you make him leave."

She nodded. "It's a pretty severe infection," she said. "He's prone to this--so he probably figured he'd tough it out...and given his mother passing only a month ago...I...can't imagine he wanted to be in a hospital--plus being Christmas and all. He's stubborn, Mister Barnes. I think he'll pull through--but it was lucky you came across him. His fever is spiking. It just hit forty-one degrees Celsius. Any higher than that--and brain damage can start." She started him on fluids and potions.

"I'll contact his parents. I assume he didn't ask permission." Honda nodded, turning to go and do so.

Bucky came to his bedside, leaning on the bed and rubbing at his red nose. "H-he's an idiot! He shoulda said!" He looked grumpily down at his friend.

Williams gave Bucky a cup of tea. "We can only wait. You could go and wait at home and we can send you word when he's no longer delirious, Mister Barnes."

"I want to stay with him." Bucky said at once, hands clasped around his cup. "It's Christmas, he shouldn't be alone."

"Alone, who's alone? Dad--" Steve murmured. "Dad? She's alone, Dad. She's alone."

Williams went to her counter to make him something that would put him out, into a deep and dreamless sleep.

"No, no Steve. I'm here." Bucky soothed him, "It's me, Bucky, you're not alone." His hand found Steve's, holding on while he fell asleep. Soon enough Bucky would pass out beside him.

"I--what--no, it's Easter. With the--I know, the other kids took it. I had to fight them, Mom...yes, I did. Because...because they always...."

The potion put him right out.

Bucky snored on the pillow and in the morning his mother turned up, fussing over her son about recklessness before giving him a tight hug, comforting him over his fear for Steve. "Well, I suppose if the school has no complaints you can stay the rest of the holiday," she sighed.

 

Erskine was still there, ghosting around the infirmary. "Do you two...eh--know Mister Rogers well?"

"We've been friends since first year," Bucky said, pulling back from his mother to look at him. "He..."

"Steve is a very good-hearted boy," Winifred supplied.

"If I am correct--I believe he is the friend of Tony Stark and Bruce Banner? I worked superficially with Stark on his new werewolf serum. But this is something different...has he always been this fragile?"

"Yeah, they are... we're all friends." Bucky swallowed. "Yeah, always. Get's sick at a drop of a hat, he always has trouble breathing. Asthma. He... never accepts it though, always pushes himself."

"His whole life this fragile...and never giving up," said Erskine. "Perhaps...we can begin to work on something for him..."

"He never knows when to, even when he should. He keeps getting himself hurt." Bucky said and blinked, "Like... what?"

Erskine stared down at the frail boy. "Well," he said slowly. "If we can change what the werewolf mutation does to Bruce Banner...perhaps we can change Rogers' genetic make-up entirely."

His mouth fell open, "Really? You could make him healthy?"

Erskine examined Rogers. "...it is possible. I would never have thought Stark could control the werewolf. And yet, he has. He has the unique perspective of someone deeply invested in the medical science of muggles. He showed me a great deal. I will start work. Madam Williams, may I have a blood sample."

Williams looked at him, having been listening. She hesitated and then, "Yes. Here." She drew it for him. "Make good use of it, Erskine. This poor thing deserves it."

"I'm not good at--at that sort of stuff, but I'd help. Anyway I could." Bucky offered.

Erskine shook his head. "I'm afraid this will be something far more advanced than even the werewolf serum. I will begin work personally. Delicate research, Mister Barnes. I should probably do it all myself...Stark can be reckless with samples..."

"I--oh, okay." he nodded, looking down at Steve. "It'd be real great if you could help him."

"It is no insult to you, Mister Barnes. I respect your dedication and your desire to help him. But this, I think...will be my final research project for Professor Beilschmidt. And Stark does not like to take notes."

Erskine took the sample. He had his own locker now in Tony's lab since they had done some work together in the past (Beilschmidt had paired them together when Tony was bumped forward to the sixth-year potions classes during his second year). Now, he pulled out his notes and put the vial of blood in front of him, watching it bubble and churn in the container.

"....peppermint..." he said, quietly.

And he began to write.


	8. Two Sides of a Coin

Steve blinked blearily. At first, he thought he was being choked. He grunted, reaching up a weak hand and grabbing--but his fingers found a cool cloth instead. It smelled like peppermint. He pulled it down. It was like coming out of a fog. His eyes cleared and he was able to focus. He couldn't see his fire burning...and his bed was different and he wasn't drenched in sweat for the first time in--wait....what day was it?

He realized he had no clue and that made him more alert. And then he saw that, of course, he was in the infirmary.

"Steve?" Bucky asked cautiously, seeing his friend stir. He was dressed now and looking marginally better himself, shaking off a small cold with the help of pepper-up potion.

Steve looked at him, thin face hollow and tired. "Bucky? Is break over already?"

"I... not quite yet." Bucky shook his head. "I snuck out to see you on Christmas Eve, that was four days ago, Steve. You've been pretty sick."

Steve blinked. "Four days ago?" He looked down. "What happened? I don't...remember...."

"Pneumonia, really bad." He swallowed hard. "I thought you were... it got scary for a while. Found you sick in bed, you were delirious."

Steve sighed softly, looking away. "I'm sorry..."

"No--I... well, yeah, you should be." Bucky grimaced, "Steve, I know you want to prove you're strong but you don't need to, and pretending you're okay when you're not isn't--I want you to be okay. And I accept the apology but please don't do it again."

Steve's eyes flinched a little. "...ha, so easy for you to say," he said darkly.

"I know, I know I don't--God." He rubbed his face. "There's a nurse here for a reason, Steve."

"I didn't ask for someone to come looking for me," Steve scowled. "I would have been fine. I've gotten through it every year."

Bucky's fists tightened. "You were coughing up blood! You were having delusions! You weren't going to be okay."

"That's because pneumonia is a lung infection. I've had it enough times to know--and it wasn't blood. It was bloodstained, sure. It's not like I was going to die like my mom. She was coughing up blood. I was coughing up mucus that was stained with blood. Two different things. I was going to be fine. What are you doing back here early anyway? You should be at home with your parents--getting fawned over." He flinched to himself when the last words left his mouth. Some of his bitterness had escaped. His shoulders hunched, he ducked down a little and screwed his eyes shut. "I'm sorry...I didn't mean that..."

Bucky looked more distressed as he went on, "Why can't you let people help you! It's not--not pity, Steve! It's because we care about you." He drew back sharply, jaw clenched. "I didn't want to leave you alone, I... fuck, Steve."

"How did you even get here! I just want to take care of myself! Maybe one day it'll sink in before one of the many stupid things wrong with me kills me! I'd rather try and live how I want than constantly have to hang on someone's arm!"

Bucky shook his head. "Floo powder!" He threw himself back in his chair, arms folded around his lean chest. "You don't have to! You don't..." he looked away, "Taking care of yourself is knowing when to go see a doctor, too."

"I hate doctors. I'm sick of doctors," Steve scowled. "I hate hospitals and infirmaries and nurses and needles and doctors! I'm tired of it! If God is trying to kill me--he should get it over with! Why do I keep living!"

He bristled, "Don't you ever say that! Ain't you got nothing that makes it worth it?"

Steve's eyes became far away. "I'll get through school here, everyone will go their separate ways and then I'll live alone in a hut in the back-forty of a school. Too weak to keep the grounds, too stupid to do anything like Stark. Constantly sick and a drain on everyone around me. You tell me."

"The hell are you on about?" Bucky narrowed his eyes. "When we graduate you're coming to live with me, you'll get a job like... I don't know, drawing cartoons for the Daily Prophet, you could do a hell of a better job than the chump currently doing 'em."

"Oh, and then I'll live off your charity instead." Steve clenched his teeth. "And instead of doing anything useful--I'll draw some cartoons for a newspaper. Great."

"That's not what I meant at all," Bucky growled. "And you know it."

Steve looked away. "I'm not going to live as long as you or Thor or Loki or Bruce and Tony....it's a lost cause. Pity project. You don't need to anymore."

"Fuck's sake!" Bucky's fist suddenly thumped into the bedside table. "Stop it, Steve! It's nothing of the sort! It's nothing to do with pity."

Steve's eyes went down to the bed sheets. "It'll be easier when I die, Bucky."

"You're not gonna die, you're not. And fuck you for saying that. What the hell is this about? You think it'll be easier if you push us all away?"

"Fuck me for being realistic." He shook his head. "Nevermind, Bucky. Just forget it."

"We're friends, you dummy," Bucky said, voice steadier than he himself felt. "You don't give up on friends."

Steve finally fell silent. Likely, the loss of his mother--still fresh--and the frustration with his body. The rage at his own helplessness. He was glad, at least, that Madam Williams was not in the infirmary with them at the moment.

Bucky stared at him, his tongue probed at his teeth and then his lips before he fumbled for a glass and the jug of water. "Here, drink..."

Steve looked at it. He didn't meet Bucky's eyes but he took it and drank it down.

He took the glass back without a word and set it down, then cautiously Bucky took Steve's hand in his, trying to communicate beyond what clumsy words could say.

Steve was quiet for a long minute and then said, "I'm sorry...s'just with my mom dying and me always being sick..." he kept his eyes down, not making eye contact.

"... sometimes I think... I couldn't deal with it, what you do. You're strong, Steve; stronger than me, I think."

Steve shook his head. "It's not--I'm not....it's just necessity. Dealing with what needs to be dealt with. I feel like I drove my mother to an early grave. She was always there--she always...prayed with her rosary when the worst would come. Always....did everything she could for me. And I didn't get to do anything for her..."

"Ah Steve, you know your ma... she never would've wanted you to feel that way. She loved you, she did it all for you because of that. I bet she never regretted a day of it."

"I know that!" Steve snapped and then closed his eyes, trying to relax again. "I know she didn't. But that doesn't mean that _I_ don't regret that she wasted her life having to look after me!"

"I'm sorry." Bucky looked down, "I'm sorry, Steve."

"I never wanted to be a useless, pathetic weakling son. Especially after my dad left."

Bucky squeezed his hand gently. Maybe Steve just needed to get it out, to say this, like draining the pus from an old wound. "You're better than him."

"I don't even know what happened to him. She had a box of letters--" and he blinked. He'd forgotten all about the letters. "...I haven't read them yet. I dunno--maybe he's alive somewhere. Maybe he's dead. I guess it doesn't really matter. I can't worry about him--gotta look after myself. Gotta....make this work."

"You will make it work, Stevie." he offered a gentle smile, "An' whatever you choose to do, I got your back."

Steve laid back. He would be in the infirmary for another week before he was given permission to return to his cottage.

 

 

Loki returned, solemn and untalkative. The conversation with his father about the changeling had not gone well...he avoided them.

Thor trailed along with his brother, trying to speak to him, trying to reach out to him. The truth had come out in... ugly fashion and at home only their mother had been able to get through to Loki at all.

And through these days, the seventh year student, Erskine worked. His list of ingredients was growing every day--he replaced some, added others: ginger, Acacia, garlic, peppermint, hypericum, kelp, lilac, Jacob's Ladder, primrose, sandalwood, tarragon, thyme, tulsi and tumeric, yarrow, zanzibar drop, birch and boiled oak bark, dittany, eucalyptus---one quarter turn at the half-moon....

He spent long hours, chalkboard covered in markings and combinations, attributes and the influences of the planets.

Erskine was known to work on his own projects and Stark was still riding the high of his patent and his success with Bruce--and so for some weeks, Tony didn't visit the lab at all.

 

Loki went down to the dungeons and sat in his dormitory, silent.

"Hey Loki." Bucky waved as he came in. It hadn't occurred to him until he came back that he'd absolutely neglected to write to Marianne at all during the holiday and he'd spent a good hour grovelling and explaining as to why today.

He stopped when he noticed the other boys expression. "You look blue."

Loki looked at him and snorted a laugh. "Indeed, you are not far from the truth." He grinned. "How are you, James?"

"Oh yeah?" he grinned back, not particularly understanding but glad to have broken that gloomy expression on Loki's face. "Just got grilled by the girlfriend but she forgave me." Bucky wandered closer to Loki. "What's got on your back?"

“Your girlfriend--Marianne? You move fast," he smirked. "I'm sure she was reasonable about it. She's a beauty--but she's not stupid. I imagine you kissed her all better."

"If the label fits..." he sat down beside him. "Kisses are half of why she forgave me, I'm an amazing kisser."

"Oh, shall I ask her some time? Perhaps she can demonstrate on me?"

"Hey, hey, get your own girlfriend, Loki! Don't be a dick." Bucky chuckled, elbowing him. "Just because I'm better lookin' than you there's no reason to be plotting against me."

"I'm more mysterious. And smarter. I'll take the cut." He winked.

"All right Captain Mysterious," he squinted at him. "Guess you're a tall git too. Work with what you've got." Bucky patted him on the arm. "You gonna answer my question?"

"Which one? Do I get options of questions?"

"Nah, cos you'll weasel out of the one I want answered." Bucky snorted, "What had you getting the gloom on when I came in?"

"Ah, well, I suppose I can't hide it. I'm secretly swooning over a girl and so I cannot be bothered to concentrate--but am forced to moon about helplessly over her."

Bucky tilted his head, frowning at him. "That bad, huh?" He asked about the real issue underneath the sarcasm. "Don't have to tell me if you don't want." He held up his hands, "Just a friendly offer to chat."

Loki looked up at him, smile falling, eyes darkening. "...yes, well. There's not much to be said for it, I suppose."

 

 

He could see it still, eyes growing distant. He had never been afraid of the Forbidden Forest--its dangers had never seemed real to him--not when compared to Castle Asgard and the stories his father had always told him and Thor. Not when summer vacations included fighting vampires or werewolves or the like that Thor had them do for 'training'.

But that moment, realizing there was the changeling in the darkness. Whirling around, daggers coming out--a scuffle and then that grab--

Hard as iron, cold as enchanted ice, his robes melting, burning away....but his skin...whole and unmarked.

And that moment of puzzlement, not sure suddenly if this was a dream or if it was really happening. Looking up, the changeling was looking back at him, peering, seeming just as puzzled--

And then Loki had stabbed him in the face. Blackish blood oozing over him and the ground and in the moonlight...his skin the faintest blue....

 

 

"Hey, hey Loki? You alright?" Bucky frowned as the taller boys expression went distant.

Loki sat up and smiled. "Yes...." He looked down and opened his mouth to speak....and then closed it. He shook his head a little. "I apologize for my wandering mind..."

"If you're sure, buddy." he nudged him again. "Let's talk about something else then. Get anything good for Christmas?"

"No," Loki answered automatically and then laughed. "I lie--it was fine. Castle Asgard is best when covered in snow. It is a beautiful place. What about you? I heard...eh, about your returning."

"Oh yeah, I imagine a lot of the school has." He pulled a face, knowing how well Steve would take that. "Nothing stays secret here, does it?"

"No, it doesn't, I'm afraid. How is Steve taking it? I suppose he didn't appreciate being told not to die."

"Not really, he can be a real shithead sometimes." He twisted his fingers together. "It's hard on him though, way he is."

Loki smiled. "I know of another blond-haired brute who can be a shithead. It's good though...the others have never expressed their concern---but I know they worry about whether you are too involved with each other. Steve is so stubborn and so bitter. It's hard on you--when you mean well."

"Your brother?" He laughed. "We're the guys who gotta pick up after 'em, I guess." Then Bucky paused, blinking, "... what? Too involved with each other? Who thought that?"

"Not the way you're thinking," Loki amended. "Mostly it was Caoimhe who said something of it--that you were going to get ulcers over worrying about him so much. It's good for you to branch out and experience other things. To have a girlfriend and go on dates--things like that. There was a point when you did that a lot---and then...after Steve's mother passed...you stopped. We all noticed that."

"Well... he needed me more. Couldn't leave him on his own to deal with that." Bucky shook his head, hackles lowering. "I'll get ulcers if he doesn't learn to ask for a doctor when he needs one but...I guess. He doesn't need me fretting over him all the time."

"He hates it," Loki said. "I suppose he can't help that. Tony says Erskine has been holed up in the lab for a month--pouring over combinations he thinks will help Steve."

"Yeah, the guy seems to think he can do something to help, make him stronger." Bucky nodded. "I'm hoping he's really good for it. Just anything to make Steve healthier, let 'im do the kind of stuff the rest of us can. I hate seeing him so bitter."

"Yes....it consumes him in a way. And it only got worse after his mother died." He smirked a little. "I suppose that's what happens, living in the shadows of others."

"I don't get it... you know--"

Loki's eyes darkened. _Of course you don't._

"--I never saw Steve as someone to look down on or to pity, I don't understand why people do. It's like they don't notice all the strong stuff about 'im, they just see this weedy little kid."

Loki smiled. "They don't. Because perspective--what they perceive to be, is all there is--nothing else. People view you as a swaggering mischief-maker. They don't see you as something else, James. I have always been Loki, the lesser brother of Thor, son of Odin. Because that's what they perceive."

"But you ain't. So what if you're younger, you're God damn smart, hell if you weren't in Slytherin you'd be giving Stark a run for his money in Ravenclaw, Lok. Load of bull," he said sourly but knew there was nothing to be done for it.

Loki shrugged. "Thor has always held father's favor. It is just the way of the world. It's not hard to see why when you look at him--he is my brother and I love him dearly--he is reckless--but he's a better person than me, sometimes. He would help those that I would not."

Bucky huffed, "Well, I don't think you're worth any less than he is."

"Well, I don't either. And neither does he. That is what matters. My--father....does not."

"Your father sounds like a jerk." Bucky said plainly. "... sorry."

Loki tensed a little. "Well, I'm afraid I'm in no place to disagree--except that Thor would be sad if he knew."

"Guess I hate to see anyone feel put down, especially when it's a friend." Bucky softened.

Loki shook his head. "It takes more than that to get to me. I don't need anyone to be successful. I know what I am capable of."

He reached and clapped him on the back with a nod. "Yeah. Well, I'm gonna go on to bed. Catch you later, Loki."

Loki stayed sitting at the couch for only a moment and then got up, heading downstairs, outside, across the grounds. For a very long moment, he stood in front of Steve's door. He lifted his hand to knock--and paused, hesitating.

Thor had always worn his heart on his sleeve. Thor would help those that Loki would dismiss. Thor...was the son Odin wanted. Loki...was different. Solitary. Mischievous (when those saying so were feeling kind). But Loki knew it was far easier to manipulate Thor. Perhaps he saw something of himself in Steve--and something of Thor in James Barnes. Still, he hesitated. Reaching out to his father--seeing the disappointment upon realizing Loki had learned the truth. The way he avoided Loki's eyes, telling him how he'd taken Loki as a baby from the changelings of the north. How everything he'd been brought up to believe was a lie.

There were no such thing as heroes. No one was special. And sometimes, no matter how badly you wanted something, no matter how hard you worked for something--you never got it.

Sometimes Odin had said that Loki and Thor were two sides of the same coin---but really, that wasn't the truth. The truth was someone like Steve. Steve and Loki--two sides of the same coin. Loki having gone in one direction and Steve another. Loki knew he could never have the level of loyalty and compassion that Steve did--even though the boy had been bullied and abused far more than not. And Loki had learned his mother's magic long before Hogwarts---Steve had not had that privilege. He couldn't help but wonder--if Steve had only been born on their side--if they had met as young children--would they be different now?

He was still standing in front of Steve's door. His boots were now covered in snow. He lifted his hand again. Indecision, uncertainty--

And then the door opened.

Steve blinked out at him. "Loki? Come in--what are you doing out here?"

Loki hesitated and then awkwardly stepped inside. "I thought that perhaps you--that I could give you something," he said, looking around the cozy little cottage.

Steve lugged a chair close to the hearth and hurried to get hot tea. It was a charmingly rustic gesture--like something his mother had probably done. Loki took the tea to be polite but then set it aside. "Sit, Steve."

Steve furrowed his eyebrows. Loki did not often come calling--it was quite rare. Nothing personal, of course--Loki was like that to everyone. "Is something wrong?" he asked, sitting down across from him.

When Loki smiled, his eyes crinkled up--and even then, he still looked more conniving than jolly. "No, nothing is wrong. Just allow me to impart a gift--for the season, let's say."

Steve raised his eyebrows. He unconsciously was fidgeting, knee bouncing up and down.

Loki looked away from those big, honest blue eyes. Busied himself grabbing the tea again and looking into it as he spoke, "I have always been second to Thor. Don't misunderstand--I love Thor. He is my brother. We have fought side-by-side for as long as I can remember. But my father, Odin and my brother, Thor--cast....very long shadows. I--of course--am not like Thor. I do not have his temperament or his brute strength. But I'm smart and I have always been better with magic. My mother taught me from a very, very young age." He sipped the tea. "I say this now--only because I heard what happened over break. James rather reminds me of Thor---so honest and thick sometimes that he cannot comprehend what it's like to be either of us."

Steve's knee stilled, sitting up straighter, examining Loki--but staying quiet.

"So I suppose I came here to...make an offer." Loki finally looked at him. "As it stands--unless Erskine finds the miracle potion--you will never be like James or Thor or Bruce or Stark or even me. Your body has been ravaged by weakness, disease, sickness and pain. I see your grimace--I know you don't like to hear that. And I know that if it were simply a matter of hard work--you would be strong as a giant by now. I am offering you what my mother offered me. A chance to play to a different strength. I will teach you my magic."

Steve stared at him.

Loki looked aside a little awkwardly. "Of course, it is up to you--"

"I want to--if...if you're serious. I mean--I'm not all that great at magic--"

Loki shook his head. "That doesn't matter. You have the discipline. You ought to, by this point. I cannot know what you have been through in its entirety. When I look at you--I see that I was lucky to have my mother to teach me. I learned at a much younger age, a bit more spoiled than you." His smile...softened, became somehow less sharp. "I would like to teach you things that will _actually_ help you. Not silly jinxes or other low-level petty magics--I mean real spells. To defend yourself, to protect yourself. Illusions, conjurations, shields, the Patronus Charm--and others like it. No one bothers to teach you that here because they don't seem to understand the true low that some are willing to sink to. I can teach you about the Unforgivables. I can help you learn to cross dimensionary space. Apparation is a small form of true teleportation magics. You see, what we learn here at Hogwarts is just a tip of the iceberg. True magic, true power--the potential is incredible. And if you have the aptitude--which you do--and you work hard--which you will--you can master them. Would you like to learn?"

Steve swallowed hard and nodded quickly. "Yes, Loki. Yes."

 

 

The next week seemed to settle them all back to normal, the routine of lessons and quidditch practice and meeting up in the abandoned laboratories to do their homework together or simple hang out. They had an impromptu little party with food from the kitchens to celebrate Tony and Bruce's success.

Steve quit the Quidditch team--since he never got to play anyway and really, after beginning work with Loki...he didn't want to do anything else. What an amazing thing, really--someone focusing on him mind rather than his physical shortcomings. Loki was more solitary than Thor, less open--but he was a good teacher. And it actually...felt kind of good to have something that was a secret. Neither really agreed to keep it a secret--they just didn't really talk about it outside of practicing. If the teachers got wind, they would stop it, of course. And Steve was afraid that Bucky would just worry--or insist on coming to watch or something. And...sometimes he just...needed to be separate from Bucky.

Loki showed him how to ready his fist, how to punch--how to use daggers. It was a slow process. But finally, finally--Steve felt like he was actually doing well at something. The despair of Christmas break lifted, the thoughts of death and sickness cleared and he focused now on this.

Loki was patient, thorough and worked in full understanding of Steve's limitations. Daggers were light and quick--disarm and disable your opponent. Loki gave him two of his own enchanted daggers. "Everyone you meet is going to underestimate you because of your size. Don't give them a chance to be surprised. Disarm and disable. Speed is where you can throw your enemies. That's the only way I ever learned to best Thor in a fight. I'm much faster than he is. It's like mind over matter, Steve. Speed over brawn."

This was when Steve first began to see just how dangerous Loki was. He was fast, silent, a master of stealth. Everything bombastic about Thor--was the opposite in Loki. The brothers had clearly been taught extensively before attending Hogwarts--in magic and in combat.

"You're very quick to protect your head," Loki commented one day.

"Practice," Steve said and smiled. "Lots of it."

Loki smiled too. "It's instinctive, I know--I can see it--so instead of dual-wielding daggers, I brought you this." Loki went to their small pile of gear. They were just inside the Forbidden Forest, twilight drinking up the green trees that were just beginning to bloom. He pulled out a wooden shield. "I found this in the old catacombs underneath the school. It's very, very light but sturdy. I thought it would make good practice."

Steve took it. It slipped right over his skinny arm. The wooden grip was smooth as glass, clearly well-used.

"All right, now--dagger in the opposite hand--and remember--your eyes, if they detect my movement--that's good. But if you can sense my presence--that's better. This is the very basic element of my magic. Learn to sense the presence of your opponent. Don't force the magic into a form--weave it into the world around you."

 

 

 

Steve panted. "Loki--I can't--sense--"

"You can. Close your eyes."

"But--"

"Close them. I'm going to try something else."

Steve looked at him and then nodded. He took a deep breath and sighed, closing his eyes.

Loki approached slowly, ghosting around the perimeter of Steve's body. "Listen for the movements in the air, the subtle shift of a draft, the crunch of my boot on dead leaves."

Steve nodded. His eyes still closed, face sheened in sweat--he looked alive--but also thin and haggard. A wisp of scent, something electric and mossy--like parched earth after a much-needed rain. Steve had never noticed it before--but this must be Loki. That scent.

"Do you feel your skin prickling, Steve?"

"Y-yes. What is that?"

"That's your body sensing my presence. No--don't open your eyes. Where am I right now?"

Steve screwed his eyes shut tighter. "....you're....to my left?"

"Yes, correct. All right--now, again..." he shifted, silent.

Steve felt an odd prickle, warmth close to his spine. He thought of Bucky suddenly and shook that feeling away. "You're behind me."

"What's wrong?" Loki asked. "You had a thought?"

"N-no, of course not. Nothing. I'm--focused."

Loki half-smiled. Steve was a terrible liar. "Was it James?" Loki didn't need confirmation. His answer was in the tension that suddenly increased in Steve's narrow shoulders. "Don't worry about it now. Focus on this, all right."

 

At the end of the lesson, Loki returned to the castle. Steve wandered back to the cottage, thinking about everything he was learning. He opened the door and put his bag down--and then realized...he _could_ feel something. He stopped in front of the hearth. "....hallo?"

No answer.

"Hallo!"

A basket in the corner fell over and something scampered across the floor--Steve was on it in a flash, tossing a bowl down on top of it. The bowl squeaked and rattled and he was preparing to throw it back in the Forest when...

A piglet nosed his little snout under the rim of the bowl. Steve lifted the ceramic and looked at it. "Oh. Hi."

The piglet looked at him. It gave a little grunt.

"Didn't know there were pigs in the Forbidden Forest..." He pulled down a bit of bread, offering it.

The tiny piglet trundled over to nibble on it.

 

 

The end of the year sped to them.


	9. Letters from No One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky/Steve

Bucky came to see Steve. His relationship with Marianne was going well still, they graduated from more than kisses. "So hey, when you want to come stop over at mine this holiday?"

Steve shook his head. "I'm not sure. Figured Marianne would be visiting, right?"

"Yeah, but not like the whole summer." Bucky threw himself down on the floor, sprawing effectively. "Maybe a week or two, we haven't hashed it out yet. But that's plenty of time still for you an' me."

He felt an unexpected twist of jealousy and shook it off. "I dunno...I thought I might finally read that box of letters...maybe I can try to find out what happened to my dad..."

"... would you wanna track him down?" Bucky asked, pinching at his foot.

Steve's toes twitched, tried to pull back. "I dunno--I'll probably be sick again. Probably pointless."

Bucky huffed up at him, curling his fingers around Steve's ankle. "Then we'll sit in and play exploding snap, don't worry about it."

Steve paused, looking at the hearth. "I'm not sure. I mean...why bother with someone who left us. But I guess I want to know how he died."

 Buck nodded, "... I would too, in your place."

Steve couldn't pull away now. He wiggled his toes. He shook his head. "At least closure--so maybe we--I can...get a stone put up with Mom's..."

There was a set to Bucky's jaw that said he wasn't going to let Steve visiting just go but he wasn't going to ignore the more serious issue Steve was speaking of for it right now. In small revenge he tickled Steve's ankle.

"You should try if it'll give you peace of mind."

Steve growled. "Ahhh--no!" He tried to pull away again, against Bucky's stronger grip.

A laugh startled out of Bucky, "Uh oh, Stevie, you awakened the tickle beast!" he grinned and tickled his ankle further, long fingers skittering up Steve's calf.

"No-no-no!" He squirmed in his armchair, trying to scrambled back up into it. "Buuuck-!"

"Whaaaat!" Bucky laughed, sitting up on his knees and chasing Steve's feet as he tried to tuck them away. "Somethin' the matter?"

"My feet!" He said, rolling back over the arm of the chair and dodging around behind it.

He whooped and scrambled up, chasing Steve around the chair, ducking back and forth with a wide grin and laughter filling up the room. "c'mere Steve! Face your destiny!"

"Never!" He cried out. He tried to climb over the top of the chair, to tumble in front and dodge around the dining table.

Bucky lunged for him, snagging Steve around the waist before he could successfully get over the chair, lifting him and falling backwards with Steve on top of him. "Gotcha!" he wrapped his limbs around him.

"Ahh!" Steve struggled--but of course, was enveloped by Bucky's stronger, larger frame. Arms held and legs pinned down. "A--ahaha! I...I knew you'd do that!" Steve said, laughing. "My--uh--my trap is sprung!"

"Oh yeah? Well go ahead, buddy." Bucky grinned, chin in Steve's light hair. "What's this plan, ya got?"

"Shut up," Steve laughed, squirming but unable to pull away. "I'm thinkin of something! You won't even believe it!"

"Oh yeah? I can't wait then." he laughed, holding Steve back down against his chest. "You got my whole attention."

Steve struggled to get his hands free--but Bucky had realized, of course, that Steve had skinny little wrists. "What--" he said finally, "--you waiting for me to admit that I can't do anything?"

Bucky blinked and frowned, lightening his grip up, "I just was kidding around, Steve."

At that very moment, he burst forward, snapping his wrists free of Bucky's grip. "Heh." He grabbed into Bucky's sides, tickling.

"Hey!" Bucky gaped, gasping and then bursting out into laughter, "You f-fight dirty!"

"What do you expect!" His legs were still pinned--but at least he could use his arms now.

A squawk escaped when Steve's fingers found a particularly ticklish spot under his arms. "I thought Hufflepuffs played fair!" Bucky grinned and giggled.

"Is this fair?" Steve asked. "I kind of have no other choice"

"I give in, I give in." Bucky smiled up at him, fingers tangling in Steve's robes. "I like crafty you."

Steve relaxed against Bucky's chest, his spine thin and bony against Bucky's sternum. "You know...I've...been kind of...distant and bitter lately. I will come to your house this summer--if its all right. Just--you know--I'll probably get sick." He laughed a little.

Bucky's face lit up like Christmas at the promise and he let out a whoop, pulling Steve down tight to his chest in an ecstatic hug. "I don't care," he smiled. "Just so long as you're there."

He felt Bucky's hands in a disembodied sort of way, on his chest, holding him. He chuckled. "Well, guess I better prove my mettle. Winifred won't mind, right? I can do work if she wants."

"Nah, of course not." he shook his head, "You're practically family, Steve."

He nodded. “Oh yeah, can I bring my pig?”

Bucky blinked, hands pausing on Steve’s chest. “Huh? Your pig?”

“I found a piglet in here the other day—I assumed she got in from the Forest. Seems totally normal though. I think it’s one of those Tea Cup Pigs—the real tiny ones that stay tiny forever.”

“Seems like that suits you.”

Steve looked over his shoulder to glare at Bucky, making him laugh. “She takes up almost no space—and she’s real quiet.”

“Where is this pig?” Bucky asked, sitting up and looking around. He wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist to keep him in his lap.

“She’s in the garden. I found old Hagrid’s notebooks—he gardened, I guess. So I weeded and stuff—working on getting seeds but she likes to play in the dirt. She comes in all the time through the dog door.”

“Does she have a name?”

“No….” Steve said softly, looking away. “I haven’t been able to think of one.”

“Well, let’s brainstorm. You can’t bring a nameless pig to my house. My sister won’t know what to do with herself if she can’t coo at the little thing.”

“I guess I’m not really sure.”

“Here, let me help.” Bucky smirked and reached up, running the fingers of one hand into Steve’s blond hair. “I’ll massage the kinks out of your brains.”

“Bucky….” Steve started and then his shoulders hunched, getting a shudder up his spine.

He chuckled in Steve’s ear, hot and breathy. His fingernails scraped softly along Steve’s skull, combing through his hair, gently massaging. “You still shiver after all this time---ha, like you still can’t get used to being touched, eh.”

Steve grunted. “Don’t say things like that—geez.”

“I guess I always was a man of action.”

Steve snorted. “Yeah right---“

Bucky smirked, palming his friend through his trousers.

“Bucky—“

He slowed, flattening his palm, movements languid and thorough. Deliberate rubbing, slow, against him. His other hand left Steve’s hair, sliding up under his shirt. Bucky smirked against Steve’s neck, feeling how the smaller boy arched his spine to his touch. He mouthed the back of Steve’s neck.

Steve shivered again. He tried to halt Bucky’s hands but his skinny fingers, wrists, arms—were no match for the larger boy. He squirmed in Bucky’s lap—taking a quick breath—and then felt Bucky lean back into the chair again. He pulled Steve with him, his bony spine back against Bucky’s chest. It felt disembodied again, Bucky’s hand riding Steve’s shirt up to his collarbone. Pausing when Steve shuddered, grabbing onto the hand with both of his, trying to stop him—

And Bucky snatched Steve’s wrists, skinny, bird-like, fitting easily in one of Bucky’s calloused palms. He held them away and, with his other hand, he peeled Steve’s belt open. He hardly needed to—all of Steve’s clothes were far too big on him—given that he took almost all of them from the donation bins in the basement but he liked to. Bucky thrilled to that secretly—the anticipation he felt in Steve, this guy who felt everything so intensely could only feel this in the same way. Intoxicating, disorienting, trying on the surface to stop Bucky—but secretly maybe not wanting to at all. He pushed Steve’s jeans down and away, cupped one skinny thigh and then moved inward. His palm flat and warm against Steve’s pale skin, moving inward, curling fingers around his cock. Bucky smirked again, hearing Steve gasp softly, seeing how his pale, cold skin got that red flush that started at his ears and worked its way down into his throat, to his chest. He sucked gently at Steve’s throat.

Bucky guided Steve’s wrists to the arms of the chair, and Steve went with the silent command to grab on. “Yeah, there you go…just hold on, Steve. I got ya….”

Both hands free now, they drifted over Steve. Nipples, scrawny chest, frail hips, one back to his cock. The other exploring his thighs, his perineum—hearing Steve gasp, trying to strangle the sound. And then eyes shooting open, back arching, freezing in place—feeling Bucky’s fingers explore back. Farther. Farther.

“B-Bucky--!” Steve breathed, barely above a whisper.

“It’s all right, pal. I got ya, remember….besides, its interesting, right?” He thumbed the head of Steve’s cock again, watching his friend’s face. And with his other hand, slid back. Slid in. Just one finger, just to feel what it was like. He felt Steve become very still. “I can feel your heartbeat,” Bucky said, smirking again. “Like a bird—so fast, kiddo.”

“Buck…don’t…” Steve frowned, embarrassed, perhaps ashamed.

Bucky went quiet, taking mercy on his friend. For some time, he stroked, touched—his cock and just inside of him, slowly, steadily, a little deeper…a little deeper—

Until he felt Steve jerk hard. His lungs rattled, attempting to suck in air desperately.

“Right there?” Bucky asked, touching for that spot again, massaging against it. “Yeah?”

Steve shook, his t-shirt stuck to him, cock hard and red. He bit his lip hard.

“Yeah…” Bucky murmured in his ear, kissing the back of his neck again. Massaging pitilessly, cock and prostate—he himself was hard against Steve’s back. He rocked up into him, a rhythm building fast. Bucky could imagine suddenly—not his finger deep inside of Steve but his cock. The sent a hot flush through him. He slid in a second finger, ignoring Steve’s gasp, grinding against his narrow hips. “I can feel how warm it is—you’re so cold most of the time, Steve---but not here…right here, you’re so warm….what do you think—I could push inside of you—feel that heat--”

Steve jerked and came, his whole body curving, shaking.

“Yeah…” Bucky murmured to him, massaging him through it and then lifting his hands. They went right to his own jeans, opening them up. He grabbed Steve’s hips, pulling them up higher. His cock curved up inbetween Steve’s thighs, pushing against Steve’s softening cock. He managed to grind against him and then came sharp and hard.

It was like when he’d had dreams about Natasha…his experimenting with Marianne….

They slumped back in the chair. Steve was sweaty and looked dizzy and Bucky was in no hurry to move. In fact, Steve was quiet for so long that Bucky thought he’d fallen asleep.

Then he murmured, “….how about Biscuit?”

Bucky chuckled against his ear. “Yeah…Biscuit sounds good.”

 

 

And so, Steve stayed in his cottage for a week or two and then went to Hogsmeade to take the train to Barniby's Bay--where Bucky lived with his parents and siblings.

Bucky met him at the train station, looking remarkably at ease in Muggle clothing. He hooked his arm around Steve's neck as soon as he got off the train and took one of the two travel bags Steve had brought in the other. "Hey pal!"

"Hey, Buck," he said, smiling and walking with him. "Oi, oi, I got that!" He tried to insist, to at least take one of the bags. "How are your brothers? And your dad?" He asked, following his friend.

Bucky let him have one but took the other, "You're the guest, gotta treat ya right." he told him. "They're annoying shits still but alright, dad's pretty busy with his work."

 

Steve was there for nearly two weeks before the first bout of Dragon Pox hit him. Having never experienced a wizard-disease, he had no idea what was happening (for once). He got up not feeling well—which was fairly normal for him—but when he looked in the bathroom mirror and saw the pustules on his face, he started badly. “Ah!”

He jumped back from the mirror and then leaned forward again, gently touching. He swore softly. Of course. Why couldn’t he get bronchitis or strep like he normally did…and then he had to reflect on the irony of wishing for one of his regulars.

He pulled on a t-shirt, feeling the first waves of dizziness and fever begin. Creeping in like shadows at twilight, he held onto the staircase railing, slowly going downstairs.

George Barnes was in the kitchen, preparing waffles. He did a double-take. “Steve—oh, wow. Oh, c’mere, chief.”

Steve touched the wall, letting it guide him into the kitchen.

“Oh—“ Becca startled. “oh no—Dragon Pox, ain’t it, Papa?”

“Yep, looks to be. You ever had Dragon Pox, Steve?”

He shook his head. “Lots of Muggle-stuff but I hadn’t taken a hit from wizard-diseases yet. I suppose it was only a matter of time.” He chuckled.

George smiled a little. He could appreciate the way Steve looked at the world. Yes, it wasn’t always optimistic but…well, sometimes there was no room for that. He had spent twenty years in the Corps, traveling to other wizarding parts of the world, fighting all manner of dark creatures (The Vampire Incursion of Brazil had lasted three years.) He had fought alongside wizards from all parts of England, Europe, North and South America. New Hampshire-born Jack Ridenour remained one of his oldest friends (he and Jack had spent four days trapped in a pyramid in Cairo, fighting mummies before Cursebreakers could arrive to help them get the doors open) and the lovely Miranda Steele (who had been his sponsor into the Royal Air Core of Raging Hypogriffs—the precision broom-squadron flight team) had brought a little dragon called Noir to James’ ninth birthday party (where James called him Toothless and refused to call him anything else). Part of George wished that James would show an interest in the wizarding military—but he was still young…and so concerned with this Steve Rogers boy. “Becca, go open up the attic—we’ll get it aired out and have you sleep up there. Dragon Pox is pretty contagious. But not to worry, lad, Winifred knows her way around a sickbed. You may wish she didn’t—she’s a tough taskmaster—but she’s always kept the boys and Becca in line.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” Steve said quietly.

George shook his head. “You didn’t ask for it, did you? You know, when I was flying with the Core---one of our sergeants got hit with Grindyglow Fever—you know those things, yeah? Brittle, skinny fingers, live in swamps. It’s ugly stuff—makes the person get awful sick, they waste away to bones. But we carried her well over five hundred miles—taking turns on each broom—she was contagious—kept telling us to leave her. But we didn’t.” George’s eyes were far away for a moment. And then cleared. “Well, in any case—my boy likes you well enough. So you’re almost like a sergeant…..or something.” George shrugged. “Sit down.” He gave Steve some chocolate and a mug of spearmint tea. “Get that down and we’ll get you upstairs. Winifred will be buzzing over you soon enough.” He looked fond when he said it. “When James wakes up, I’ll have to delay him—he’s never had Dragon Pox and I really don’t want him to start. Though I can’t imagine it’ll make much difference—he’ll be up there sitting with you whether I tell him to or not. But I’ll try.”

Steve did the slightest of double-takes at George. Something in him warmed a little. This must be what having a father felt like. “…thank you, sir. I don’t want him to get sick too.”

George waited for Becca to return before putting a thick arm around Steve’s skinny shoulders. “I remember when I got the Pox. I was in Thailand—they have the worst folklore horrors there, you know. And worse—they’re real. The flying heads of decapitated women, with entrails dragging on the ground—I reckon I could write some of them Muggle horror movies. Worst thing I ever saw in Thailand.” He went on, taking Steve upstairs.

Steve couldn’t help but listen—he didn’t have to pretend either. It _was_ interesting. He had never heard much about the wizarding military. Everything from History of Magic was a dull blur—but it seemed he vaguely recalled that having a bunch of unregulated folks knowing how to murder everyone else—had cemented in the idea that a formal military might be beneficial.

“It was about damn time,” said George. “Bunch of kids fighting dark wizards at a damn school—ridiculous. I know Dumbledore was a great wizard and all—but sometimes these old witches and wizards got no damn common sense. Aurors are for specialty targets—like, eh, in the Muggle side…eh…M16 or FBI or something. You can’t expect everyone else to be combat-ready just cause they know about jinxes. I went on a mission with my old mates—Jack Ridenour and Miranda Steele—we were checking out a disturbance in rural Arkansas—one of them swamp wizards, you know, with the oversized caterpillars they like to ride. They didn’t know how to cast Jelly-Legs from Petrificus….” He went on, idly filling the silence as he got Steve into the bed in the attic.

Winifred was upstairs in no time at all. Bustling, herding George away and taking over easily. “Lucky for you,” Winifred told him, businesslike. “A cure was developed a long time ago. But you’ll still be in bed for awhile, you understand.”

“Yes, ma’am…”

“Don’t worry—James will deal with it. That girlfriend of his is coming to visit. I’m sure she’ll keep him busy.” Something in her expression darkened. “Hopefully not more than I think she will.”

“What?” Steve asked.

“Nothing—just—thinking of mother-things. Here.” She fed Steve a spoonful of some strange tonic, checked his fever again. And then did a double-take when Biscuit appeared. “Oh, that’s the piglet? He’s a sneaky little thing.”

“She—uh—she’s good at it. Stayed out of sight because of the dogs, I think,” Steve said quietly. He looked over as Biscuit hopped up onto the bed and waddled over to Steve. Her tiny snout poked at his cheek and then flopped down next to him.

“Something strange about that one,” Winifred observed. “Oh—and here. James told me you’ve been meaning to read these—but you haven’t yet.” She set the box of letters beside the bed. “You should do it now. They were your mother’s, Steve, whether they're from someone or no one.”

Steve looked at her. “Ma’am, I—“

“You need to read them. I know why you haven’t. Because you’re afraid that your father _is_ out there somewhere. That he simply abandoned you both—and you’ll have to find him, risk caring about him—when everyone you love leaves you.”

Steve looked at the window, somehow looking thinner suddenly.

“You’ve got another box in your bag—I’ll get it out. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t read them. I’ll bring it up for you.” She walked out.

Mothers were strange….

Steve looked at the box, then at Biscuit…and then he grabbed it and pulled it to him. He swallowed hard and pulled the top of the box off, set it aside. It was crammed full of letters. He selected one at random and opened it.

 

 

Back at the castle, Erskine fed his potion to a caged rat. He cringed back when the rodent’s eyes burst. “So, don’t let it sit for too long under the moon….” He murmured, notating it. “Add more salamander blood…”


	10. Like a Hydra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the curious : Guy Fawkes verse in case a wizard ever tries to trick you and/or warn you: http://www.potw.org/archive/potw405.html

_10 July 2005_

_Sarah—_

_I know this is difficult. I keep imaging that you must have thrown away these letters. I would understand—you would be entitled to anger, rage—I left you with Steve without a word. But please understand, Sarah—things have been set in motion that cannot be undone. I’m sorry. Even sending these occasional notes—it’s dangerous. No, I can’t tell you why.  
_

_S_ _teven must be two years old now. I’m writing this a week after the 4th of July—I know his birthday must have been hard. And I know he must be asking questions now…I hope he’s like you. Strong._

_\--Joseph_

 

_02 August 2005_

_Sarah—_

_I know that you can’t send me any responses—but I want to continue to write anyway. It gives me some small measure of comfort to imagine that you’re here. Our anniversary is at the end of the month. I haven’t forgotten. Maybe it’s that—it’s made me sentimental lately. The others comment on it—ask me if I’m still incognito. I am—of course—Sarah, I just…I do miss you. And knowing what we face now—remember when I told you—when we met that…that things were happening beneath the surface of the Ministry?_

_Things are still happening. Aurors take care of specialty targets, of course. But there are still more out there. Others, you know. After the Death Eaters were rooted out during the Voldemort Uprising in the late 90s…its not as if that could ever be the true end. It’s just like Muggles—humans are incredible. We are versatile, smart….but when it’s used like it was during that horrible war and the brutality that surfaced afterwards--_

A blot of water blurred the end of the line, picking up at:

_…they’re like a hydra, Sarah—cut off one head and two appear to replace it. Power is a vacuum. We wizards…we pride ourselves in our magic….but it's toxic, in a way. We’ll destroy ourselves. That’s why there are so few of us left._

_\--Joseph_

_16 September 2004_

_Sarah—_

_I thought I’d be home for Steve’s first birthday. I know now that I won’t—and probably not for the second one either. I’m sorry. It’s been one thing after another here, y’know—cut off one thing, two more pop up.  
\--Joseph_

_31 October 2005_

_The Bartons were killed yesterday. Both of them. Their boys were on the Muggle side—with a grandparent. Found by--_

_\--Joseph_

_01 November 2005_

_Sally,_

_Things sure are getting hectic around here, aren’t they? Just got word about my old man, T Barton—cancer got him, they say. He was watching the kids and he just went down like the Hindenberger. Don’t drink the water, Sally—hahaha, I’m gonna have to start using another name and everything—don’t need none of that bad juju finding me out here in the sticks. Grandpa Barton, the President (that’s Jackie, cause he was a Hampshire boy—that’s south of New York, where you’re from…er, right?) got a bad case of the Shivers. They’re saying Hindenberger got him too. Prez ain’t dead—but boy could he use a doc. Young AJ took a bad hit to the head—woke up and couldn’t remember his own name, babbling like a tapdancing spider—sent him to that school up in Scotland to get him sorted out._

_Speakin of—you should be getting a bit of money with this—want you to take Stevie and move south. There’s a place in Portsmouth that’ll do you right. Ask for the General at the desk—you be careful on the road—I know you don’t much like flying. Don’t worry—aint no hydras gonna jump outta the lake and get ya. Keep Stevie away from the water though—just in case. Boy has got a spark in him—I imagine he’ll grow up and be quite a wizard one day. Though, with any luck…he won’t. I’d rather him have your genes than mine. Things are getting hectic. Try and be in Portsmouth before Christmas. I’ll see you soon, Sal.  
Lovely Love love,_

_J Nicholas F._

 

Steve stared at the words and pulled a pad of paper to himself. He had a list of names and places from the letters:

Bartons (at least one was Muggle-born; had two children), Grandfather—T Barton

Jack from Hampshire (the President) – the Shivers? (…seizures? Crucio curse?)

Hindenberger ? (Hindenberg? Muggle air disaster in America. Something wizards wouldn’t normally know about)

AJ – hit to the head, sent to school in Scotland (Hogwarts?)

Hydras (mentioned in almost every letter after August 05)

Death Eaters (rooted out but problems still around, cut off one and two more surface)

House in Portsmouth – the General—

 

Steve remembered the General—a grouchy, grizzled old woman. He couldn’t remember her real name—they’d always just called her General. But she had rented their house to them after they moved to Portsmouth. But the General had died just before Steve went to Hogwarts.

 

And then at the bottom: Joseph Nicholas Rogers / J Nicholas F (what is the F?)

Steve knew his father had not been home that Christmas. His mother had never even suggested that he might come home. The whole letter appeared to be encoded… but why? What was his father up to?

Biscuit was laying on Steve’s blanket, a little warm bundle on his chest. He absently stroked her soft back. She opened sleepy eyes at him, snuffled in his blanket and put her head back down.

Steve put the notepad down and selected the next letter.

 

_05 November 2005_

_  
Remember remember the Fifth of November._

_The Shield and the fire, the plot and treason_

_September’s the reason for monsters this season_

_Remember remember the 6th of November_

_It didn’t die yesterday and won’t die today_

_You cut off one head, two more come from the bay_

_Remember remember , 7 November_

_We fight and we burn and we fly to the moon_

_The Shield that we hold will take us too soon._

_Remember remember the 8th of November_

_We might never see the sweetness of bold summertime_

_But we’re with you all now til the end of the line._

 

“That’s not right,” Steve murmured. “Not at all.” The poem and verse about Guy Fawkes and the attempted bombing of Parliament was something all English school children learned about. Every Muggle would know, reading this, that this was completely wrong.

But a wizard probably wouldn’t.

Steve turned the page over—it was blank. No address, no goodbyes. Just blank paper with a made-up rhyme. And then he saw the photos.

There were two of them. One was a tall young man, smiling brown eyes and blond hair. He had a scruffy beard. Leaning casually on a broom, he waved at the camera and then laughed at something that happened off-camera.

It startled Steve badly for this….this must be Joseph Rogers. It had to be. Steve knew his blue eyes, his pointed nose—that was from his mother. But his hair, the curve of his jaw…that was in this man. Steve touched the glossy paper. This man was tall—but thin. Very thin. Almost scrawny—like Steve was. He turned the photo over, written on the back was: _Til the end of the line, J_

Something seemed to clutch at his heart, squeezing hard. Bubbling up from his gut, into his lungs and escaping into the attic. He slapped a hand over his mouth, attempting to smother it—it turned into hacking coughs.

Biscuit looked up at him.

Steve bit hard on his own fingers, struggling to get his breathing under control and then picked up the second photo.

This had a group of men and women. An older lady stood in the middle, leaning against a dragon. She was holding a shield. Steve did not know what the significance of the shield was—but the rest all stood around it. A man on her left was grinning, a cigarette swaggering out of the corner of his mouth. On her right, he recognized his father, still holding his broom. Another lady was miming holding a wand in each hand, pointing them at another woman next to her, who was making finger-guns back at her. To the Finger-Gun Lady’s left, another man stood, just smiling and then turning to say something to the man on the other end of the line—bearded and with glasses, this man looked rather more academic than the others. And one more man, dark-haired, dark-eyed, looking a little more tired but still smiling. And then everyone tumbled over, laughing silently when the dragon lurched suddenly, giving the dragoneer a lick across her head. He turned the photo over:

_SHIELD_

_Hans “Solo” E [MB; Germany]_

_Jack “the President” R [MB; USA]_

_Miranda “Ginger” S [WB; Great Britain]_

_Joseph Nick “the Fury” R [WB; Great Britain]_

_“Pegasus” C [MB; Great Britain]_

_Brennan “the Dame” [WB] & Jeremiah “the Duke” B [MB; USA] (31 Oct 2005)_

_Eddie “North” S [MB; USA] (03 November 2005)_

 

Steve jotted down the names—and the nicknames or codenames or whatever--on his notepad and then:

WB = wizard-born?

MB = Muggle-born?

“Shield,” he murmured softly, looking at it again as everyone laughed, getting up and Miranda pushed on the dragon’s head. “Shield…what is that….”

Circular, ribbed, made of a dark wood. But…that was it. But the way that Hans picked the shield up from the dirt, wiping it off before handing it to Jack—who gave it an extra dusting—before giving it to Miranda---it was obviously far more than just a simple shield.

He looked back at the pile of letters—the word ‘shield’ _was_ mentioned several times…actually, about the same amount as Hydra. It was just easier to hide ‘shield’ because it was an ordinary, common word….whereas ‘Hydra’ was a little more obvious.

 

He didn’t recall when his brain shut him down—just waking up again. “Becca…?” He said quietly.

Bucky’s sister smiled. “hi—thought you might be bored. Jamie can’t come up—they’re keeping him away. He’s pretty pissed about it. But then he had to go to the train station anyway to pick up Marianne Bonnefoy—his girlfriend or whatever.”

“Well, I imagine she’ll keep him busy.”

Becca laughed. “That’s what Mum is afraid of.” She reached down, gently scratching Biscuit’s soft back. “You been busy,” she said, looking around at the carnage of letters.

Steve looked down, seeing that one was crumpled almost to a pulp in his fist. He let it go and pushed himself up. Becca stood, moving pillows for him. “Do I still look green?”

“No—no, well a little bit—“ she said, “but mum it should go away by the end of the week—once the green is gone, then the blisters on your face should dissipate. She did say…they might leave scars though.”

Steve shrugged. “Ha, that’s all right—I’m not entering any beauty contests for another year or two.”

Becca smiled. “You hungry?”

“No. I’m fine.”

“Well, I only asked to be polite. I have to bring you up something anyway.” She got up “Oh, hey---uh. James told me, um…told all of us—about your mum. Uh—I’m sorry.”

Steve looked at her. He shook his head. “It’s all right. She’s at peace now. In a better place. Probably with caramel sundaes and no more nurse scrubs. You know, good stuff.”

When Becca returned, Steve appeared to be asleep. She didn’t disturb him. She put down a bowl of warm broth and a glass of juice on the nighttable and then let him be.

Outside the door, she paused to listen. He made only the softest sound as he sat up.

 

At the train station, Bucky beamed at Marianne. She looked better than ever today—beautiful blond hair and blue eyes and such a great body too. He waved jauntily. “Hey, Mari,” he said and grinned as she leaned into him so he could kiss her. He was growing fast, now almost six inches taller than her. He renewed the kiss there on the station floor, hands drifting to her waist.

“Hey, lovers, get a room.”

Marianne laughed. “Oh—probably should have mentioned.” She nodded to the side. “I ran into Romanov on the train.”

Bucky blinked. “The hell are you doing here? You tell Putin to suck a goat’s tit?”

Natasha smiled, serene. “Good to see you too. Stop telling my secrets everywhere. Nah—though—Tony is in New York City, Bruce is being held at the Ministry all summer, Thor is at Castle Asgard—Loki disappeared off the face of the planet, and then I heard Steve was here with you. So thought I’d come and see the Bay. Hear they have good rock candy here.”

“Don’t you have your own house to be at?”

Natasha smirked. “Well, Russia is kind of far from here. I’d go live in Steve’s cottage while he’s gone—but I’d probably get a second-hand infection of some kind.”

“You know, my mum is kind of nuts right? I had to beg just for Marianne to be allowed to visit. If I show up with _two_ girls—“

“Tch, I’m not staying with you,” Natasha said, looking affronted. “As if—what would I do, talk to Steve the whole time while you make out? I mean, I feel bad enough for him—and your sister tells me he has Dragon Pox. Your house is probably gross. I’ll go to a hostel.”

“My house is _not_ gross.”

“Mmm, I bet it is. He wasn’t here for hardly two weeks and he’s already bedridden.”

“How the _hell_ do you know that? Is he writing to you?”

“No, would be jealous if he was~?” Natasha smirked, simpering.

Bucky suddenly seemed to remember that Marianne was there. “Whatever. C’mon, Mari—I’ll get you back home. C’mon, Nat—you freeloader.”

“I told you, I’m not staying with you. You’re gross. And you’re gross. And gross. Did I mention that you’re gross?”

“Ah-you know, you did, funny enough.” Bucky said, looking over his shoulder at her, still smiling.

“Aw Jamie, don’t be like that.”

“Don’t call me Jamie.”

“Oh, well, I like ‘Jamie’. I think I’ll call you Jamie from now on.”

“God, I hate you.”

Natasha laughed.

They walked back to Bucky’s house—it wasn’t long and the sunshine felt good. When they stepped inside, Natasha seemed to adopt a whole different personality. She was the epitome of sweetness, buttering right up to Bucky’s mother.

His two brothers couldn’t seem to decide whether to stare at Marianne or Natasha.

“Rebecca—my sister—this is Marianne….and Natasha who came along for the ride, I guess.”

“I just heard how wonderful your family is. I know you’re coming to Hogwarts next fall, Rebecca. I hope we can be friends.” Natasha smiled.

Bucky shook his head silently at Rebecca, mouthing: _NO._

“Where’s Steve?” Natasha asked, poking her head around a corner.

“He’s sleeping,” Becca cut in before Winifred could answer. “I was just up there. He’s….he’s, uh, pretty asleep.”

“Well, I’ll go up later and give him a heart attack. And I want to see his pig.”

“How do you know all this stuff? I didn’t even know about the pig until two weeks ago.”

“Maybe you should pay better attention, _Jamie_.” She winked.

Bucky scowled.

 

Natasha waited until she could hear James and Marianne secreting themselves away in his room before heading up to the attic. She slipped in the door.

The pig stirred, still laying on Steve’s chest. Biscuit watched Natasha sit down.

“You must be the pig. Hi.”

The piglet snuffled at the blanket.

Natasha was about to lean forward, gently wake Steve---but then…

_SHIELD_

\--caught her eye.

 

She picked up the photograph. “Shield,” she murmured. Her eyes went back up to Steve. She turned the photo over to the front. Her eyes widened. These names. She knew these names. Hans Erskine—father of Abraham Erskine—that seventh year from school. Peggy Carter. Edward Stark. Joseph Rogers.

She knew for a fact that Edward Stark was dead. He was the brother of Howard Stark. He was Tony’s uncle—though she doubted that Tony had ever met him. Howard had kept Edward a secret for a long time. Howard’s ability to act like he knew nothing about the wizarding side was something even she had to admire. Hans Erskine had disappeared ten years ago, not a trace left. Miranda Steele had been killed three years ago (supposedly a ‘dragon mishap’). Jack Ridenour, two weeks after her (supposedly a broom accident). Natasha expected Unforgivables. She knew the Bartons had been tortured to death (a ‘car accident’) with the Crucio Curse.

She had known about Joseph Rogers---but Rogers was such a common name—for it to be _Steve’s_ father…

 _That_ took her by surprise. Her eyes drifted to the letter that accompanied it—but before she could pick it up, Biscuit suddenly squealed, high and loud.

Some habits were hard to break. She put the photo down just as Steve jerked awake.

 

 

Erskine watched his latest concoction bubble. The House Elves had listened to his directions at least—and they brought him any and all rats they found in the castle. He had them in a cage.

A separate bin was about half-full with dead rats. Some with horrible burns, exploded organs, broken bones…failed experiments.

He lifted a live one out, carefully securing it to the lab table.

It squeaked.

Erskine frowned but looked away. He filled a syringe with the fluid and injected it.

The rat struggled, squeaking, struggling, screaming. Screaming. Screaming. And then stopped.

Erskine sighed, another failure. Another…

But then, the rat twitched and looked up at him. Really _looked_. As if it comprehended what it was seeing. Erskine looked at the rat, met its eyes….and then looked at the silvery potion.

Back down. The rat broke one of the restraints.

Erskine smashed its head with his mixing bowl.

That was a good sign though. A good start. Finally.

He tore through his notes, searching, separating everything away from this latest concoction.

“Hard part’s over. Now we’re really ready to begin,” he said softly to himself.


	11. The Twins

“He needs an outlet,” said Maria Hill, sitting back in her chair and looking through the enchanted glass.

That student from Hogwarts might have bitten off more than he could chew, volunteering for the first testing trials for the Stark-Banner serum. The boy’s father was still around—though he couldn’t bear to watch the tests any longer. He had slunk off to the pub, drowning his sorrow.

Hill could understand that—the tests were painful and long. Bruce Banner showed incredible resolve and determination. He didn’t cry, scream or complain. He always got up, bracing again. Perhaps it was the werewolf condition—but he had very impressive stamina. Given the general distrust and fear of werewolves—they were not well-studied. Not until now.

Now the halls of the new level of the ministry were flurried with movement. Tests and healers, doctors and researchers, hopeful-looking parents with shy, withdrawn youngsters. Nervous-looking women, timid men—all drawn by the hope, the possibility, of a way to give them control. Of a society that might begin to look at them as victims—almost no one chose to become a werewolf, after all. But they certainly were treated like they had.

“An outlet?” asked Morgan Stark, leaning back as well. “What kind?”

“Something else. Something…I don’t know. More normal,” Hill said. “Now he’s so preoccupied with figuring out how to change at will….we’ll have to break the kid to get him to change now.”

“He’s not doing it on purpose.”

“I know that,” said Hill. “But as much as this test is figuring out what will trigger his transformation—you can see it all over his face. He doesn’t want to transform. I don’t want to force him….”

“He may give us no other choice.” He sighed out of the corner of his mouth. “Oh, Tony…where did he find a friend like this.”

Hill glanced sidelong at Stark. “You know Tony?”

Morgan half-smiled. “Our fathers are brothers. Or were. Tony and I have never met. Tony and I have always been on separate sides of the wall. My dad never told me why, really. I thought for awhile that maybe Howard had somehow forced him out---but Dad always seemed fine with the wizarding world. Until he disappeared, of course—when I was seventeen and Tony was five, I think.” He rubbed his chin and touched his wand to the glass. “Bruce—you have to relax—you have to let the transformation happen. That’s why you’re here. Why we’re all here. “

Bruce breathed hard, looking down and then up at the glass. He looked haggard, thin. He nodded. “I’m trying.”

“I know. But stop being so preoccupied with not transforming. You have to allow it.”

“I don’t….don’t know if I can force it…” Bruce managed. He wiped his brow. His shirt was torn to rags.

Morgan sucked his top lip in for a moment. “Bruce….you know that we can.”

“Do it,” Bruce said immediately. “Do whatever you need to.”

“Bruce, your father—“

“No!” Bruce cut Hill off in a flash. “No. He doesn’t need to see this or know anything else.”

Hill glanced at Morgan. He nodded silently.

 

Jinxes didn’t work, hexes fell flat—it wasn’t until one of the Aurors came down to the lab—and she cast the Crucio curse. Morgan jumped up, watching Bruce scream.

The boy crumbled, back spazming. He rolled up from the ground, scream getting husky—becoming a roar—becoming bestial.

The Auror dashed from the room, slamming the door behind her.

Bruce’s body elongated, mutated, churning and rippling from the inside out. Greenish-black skin, thick hair, amber eyes—the werewolf growled, prowling, roaring at the enchanted glass. Now they had to ‘Wake’ him. Tony’s words—no one else’s. They wouldn’t know if it would be like this for everyone—but Tony had hypothesized that some, after their first transformation after the serum—may have to be reminded. (As it turned out, it wasn’t---some werewolves were perfectly coherent after their first transformation.)

Images, feelings, music—they flashed them all in quick succession—trying to grab Bruce’s attention.

Nothing got it—until they flashed up the picture from the Daily Prophet. His large, amber eyes shifted, quick and sharp, honing in on Tony Stark. He gave a soft wuff, sniffing at the glass, nosing where the photo was on the other side. He barked-- And then suddenly, light came into his eyes, warm intelligence. He staggered back from the glass, looking at his arms, hands. Panic flashed through him—roaring—

  
And then turned back into a boy.

Bruce was up on his knees in a flash, hands traveling over his torn clothes, his chest. “I…I thought--! I thought I was--was a wolf for a—for a….”

“That makes sense, Bruce. You’ve never had coherency as a wolf before. It’s all right,” Hill told him. “Just relax. You did just fine.”

“Tony,” he said suddenly. “Where’s Tony—“

“Tony Stark is in New York City, remember?” Morgan reminded him.

“Tony!” Bruce did not seem to have heard him. He wheeled around. “TONY!”

“Bruce!” Morgan stood.

Hill did as well. “Get the chamber open!” She ran around the wall, waiting for the locks to be released and then hauled the steel door open. “Bruce!”

“TONY--!”

Hill hit him with something. The boy crumbled like a house of cards, unconscious. “He needs an outlet,” Hill said again. “Something to help calm his mind.”

Morgan shrugged.

 

Three days later, Tony arrived at the ministry. He refused to listen to any of the doctors, healers or experts (informing them very rudely who the expert around here was and where they could stuff themselves) and got back to see Bruce. “Heard you’ve had a rough summer,” Tony said, carrying a large black case in his hand. “These guys are second-rate, aren’t they? I’m sorry. I should have stayed to do the experiments myself. You look like hell.”

Bruce shook his head. “I’m fine—I was tired. I lost control. But Tuesday, Wednesday and—today’s tests…they all went okay.”

“I should have stayed. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, don’t do that—you start apologizing and I’ll know someone bribed you to come back.”

Tony laughed. “How do you know I wasn’t just finished up in New York? I brought you a souvenir, just like I said I would. Here.” He pushed the big black case at him.

Bruce looked at it and then at Tony. “You…brought me a gift?”

Tony snorted. “Uh—that’s what a souvenir is, Remus. Or would you be Romulus, do you think?”

“Well, I know…I just…”

“What—c’mon—I ain’t got all day. Open it.”

Bruce hesitated and then looked down. His fingers, calloused and weathered, popped the clasps. He blinked. “Tony…”

Tony grinned. “Awesome, right? Epiphone Supertramp XFL Ultra. Smooth fretboard—do you read music?”

“Er…well, no—“

“Doesn’t matter. You don’t need to know. Electric guitars are played from the gut—emotion, drive, passion! You don’t need to read any damn music. We’re gonna take this bad boy to Hogwarts—just wait til all the girls and guys see you playing that—they’ll all be like, _Oh wow, Bruce, how are you playing that electric guitar here at Hogwarts_ ,” he mimicked a falsetto. And then let his voice drop deeper. “Oh well, ladies and gents, just so happens my partner Tony and I are testing our newest invention—perfected over four years time—self-generating force-field electronics.”

Bruce laughed. “Oh, I see what this is about. It’s about testing your new toys.”

“Bruce!” Tony cried, looking hurt. “I wouldn’t do that—well, I mean—not completely. It’s killing two birds with one stone.”

Bruce gently lifted the smooth guitar from the case and Tony showed him how to hold it.

Bruce looked at the glossy, beautiful finish and then up at Tony. He half-smiled, looking almost sad. “Thank you, Tony…”

The next morning, Morgan Stark picked up the Daily Prophet, there was a picture of his uncle, Howard Stark. And then with him, Tony.

Tony, talking and then suddenly becoming very still. So much that Howard touched his shoulder. His young cousin stepped away, mouthing something. And then walked right off the stage.

_Stark protégé leaves Convention in New York City for urgent matter?_

Of course, then he walked into the labs—and saw Bruce in his cot, sitting side-by-side with Tony, fast asleep. The guitar was sitting in the case on the floor.

Morgan looked at the paper, then at the boys. He took his name tag and slipped STARK, M into his pocket before waking them.

 

 

By the time Steve had recovered from the Dragon Pox, the summer holidays were winding to a close. Marianne had left in a huff—Becca had told him. Apparently something had happened between Buck and Natasha—and whatever it was, Marianne had caught them at it.

“I was teaching her a new spell!” Bucky insisted, laughing and falling back into a chair in the attic room.

Natasha snickered. “Yeah, that non-vocal spell casting. I got a couple lessons on that.”

“I’m pretty sure you liked my teaching methods.”

“I’m pretty sure you should shut up before Steve’s head explodes.”

Bucky looked back at Steve, laughing at his friend—red-faced, ears burning. “He’s such a good guy. I don’t understand why girls don’t see it.”

Natasha’s eyebrows raised.

Steve started a little. “Bucky—don’t—not in front of Nat.”

“Lots of people see that Steve is a good guy.” Natasha shrugged. “All comes down to biology, James. Molly Sevvins is a nice girl---but she’s also anemic and a bleeder. You put a kid in her and she’ll die.”

“I got more than enough biology for all of us.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Says someone who clearly has no idea what biology is.” She looked at Steve. “Don’t misunderstand. I don’t mean anything personal—it’s just—“

“It’s just how things are. I’m not stupid. I get it.”

“Well, whatever,” Bucky said flippantly. “She can spend the rest of her summer moping. Me and Nat and you, Steve—we should go to the beach.”

“I can’t,” Steve said simply.

“What—you aren’t that sick anymore—“

“No…it’s…not that,” Steve said. “I…wanted to go back by the old house. I found some things in my mother’s letters that I’d like to check out.”

Bucky perked. “What? Really? Cool! We can do that instead.”

“You guys don’t need to come.”

“Oh, c’mon! Can’t leave us out of a mystery like that, you jerk.” He looked at Natasha for backup.

She smiled. “S’true. C’mon, Steve. Let us come. We might be able to help!”

Steve looked reluctant. “I can handle it on my own.”

Bucky sat up and reached out, gently touched his sleeve. “Yeah, dummy. But you don’t have to.”

Natasha blinked—as if suddenly seeing something for the first time. She examined the two of them.

Steve looked down at Bucky’s hand. “….thanks, Buck.”

Bucky ruffled Steve’s hair.

 

Bucky was quite excited to ride a Muggle train at first, but the appeal wore off quickly. These were trains made for efficiency, capacity and cheapness—not comfort, like the Express or other Wizard trains that were far easier to make comfortable with magic.

  
Walking down the street—the more things Steve recognized, the more nauseated he began to feel. Walking up to his mother’s house should not have caused dread to bubble up from his belly. He grit his teeth, reaching out, pushing the key into the lock. The knob was icy cold.

“….Steve?” Bucky asked, looking at him and then at the door. “what’s wrong?”

Natasha glanced around them. The street was empty, the neighborhood quiet. No car in the driveway. “Does someone live here?”

Steve swallowed. “No. House was bought out—I think Howard Stark took it. No one moved in.”

“What is wrong?” Bucky repeated. He crowded closer to Steve, watching those thin shoulders shake a little. “Steve….”

Steve wrapped his whole palm around the knob. The feeling grew, convulsed, spread like a cancer. He shoved the door open.

There was nothing.

The feeling flushed out, replaced with relief. His legs went weak and he grabbed the wall. “I’m fine!” He said, when Bucky automatically grabbed him. “I’m fine!” He pushed himself back up straight. “I—“

“What was that about?” Natasha asked. No concern in her eyes, but suspicion.

“I dunno!” Steve snapped, a bit terse. “Just a weird feeling.” He headed back into the house. He looked in his mother’s empty room. Trying to ignore the feeling that he was trespassing, he left it quickly, went to the basement.

“What are you looking for?” Bucky asked. “Steve—wait for us, pal.”

Steve turned the knob—but the basement was locked. He shoved his shoulder against it. Once, twice—before Bucky grabbed him. “What are you doing, Steve?”

“Trying to get into the basement.”

“Geez—you trying to kill yourself or what?” Bucky pushed him aside, lifted a boot and kicked the door in.

Steve didn’t answer. He flipped on the lights and went right down the stairs.

Bucky looked at Natasha, bewildered. She shrugged. They followed Steve into the dim basement. It was cold down there and damp. Steve coughed absently, ignoring it mostly, while he went to a stack of boxes. He opened one.

“What are you looking for? Steve—Hey!” Bucky said, starting to sound angry now. He grabbed Steve by the arm and jerked him away from the boxes. “The hell is your problem?”

Steve jerked back. “Nothing! I just need to find this—“

“Find what?” Natasha said, more gently. “We can help you.”

“I—“ he looked at Natasha, back at the boxes. “I need to find the name on the lease—of the lady who rented us this place. Howard Stark has the official titles now---but, we should have the records.”

“What’s some landlady got to do with your dad? He run off with her or something?”

Steve blinked, stared at Bucky for a long moment. “We are gonna go look in separate boxes now. And I’m going to pretend that I never heard that.”

“Wait, Steve---I didn’t….”

 

Natasha was the one who found the record. Bucky kept looking at Steve’s back, wishing he wasn’t so dumb sometimes. Steve seemed to relax a bit when Natasha found the sheet of paper. He read it carefully.

“Taralina Sunshoer,” he said. “She doesn’t live far from here.”

They went right then to check it out. Shutting the door still felt strange—the whole palce felt strange. Like he was smelling blood and rotting flesh again. Again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

He knocked on the General’s door. True—she had died before he’d gone to Hogwarts but someone else must be living here now.

Or well. Maybe not?

The door opened to barely a touch. A cold draft sent a shiver up his spine, parching his throat. The sun was too hot on his neck. The house too cold on his face. The windows were like eyes.

Looking in.

Looking back.

He stepped inside. Natasha and Bucky crowded in close behind him.

“Smells funny in here,” Natasha murmured. Her voice dropped to a whisper.

“Doesn’t feel right…metallic or something.” Steve agreed. They drew their wands as one person, heading down the hallway. Natasha kept glancing behind them. Her sneakers were silent on the dirty, rickety wooden floors.

They found boxes of records on the table. They found mostly medical, dental, financial—and then renters’ records. She had a copy of the contract they had found in Steve’s mother’s house.

“Hey!” Steve said, breaking the silence like a shattering plate. His finger pushed onto the paper. Up in the top right hand corner. A little circle with an S drawn inside.

“What?” Buck asked, looking too.

Steve looked at the two them, pushing the paper into his bag. “In my Mom’s letters—“

Someone appeared behind Natasha—it was only the widening of his eyes that warned her—and Natasha was whirling around. She blocked, dodged, gave a savage kick.

The person—another girl, hit the wall and rolled up. “Natasha Romanov, the Widow.” said the girl. “It has been some time.”

Natasha glanced at the boys, then back at the girl. She looked uneasy. “….Gypsy Witch?”

“Or Scarlett Witch. I have become known as both.”

“Widow?” Bucky asked. “What?”

“The Black Widow,” the girl said. She smiled at their blank faces. “Oh, I see. You integrate in with them—they never know who you are.”

Natasha’s eyes flicked over to them and then back at the other girl. “What are you doing here, Ana?”

“They have been looking for you.”

“The KGB?”

“No.” The girl smiled. It was unpleasant. Her breath seemed to scrape inside her mouth. “Hydra.”

Steve started badly. “What!”

“You know of Hydra, little one?” Gypsy raised her eyebrows.

Natasha looked at Steve, carefully seeming to be looking at her options.

Steve bristled. “Just recently heard about it.”

“Not from Natasha, I assume.”

“No.”

The girl smiled. “You know, I think perhaps I know who you are, little one.”

“He ain’t little. And you need to take about twelve damn steps back,” Bucky said, edging closer to Steve, gripping his wand tight.

“How would you know who I am?” Steve asked, stepping forward, around Bucky, glaring.

“You are in the house of the General. You know of SHIELD. And so you must know of Hydra. There are very few to whom you could be the son of. You could be a Stark—though all the Stark men have dark hair. You could be of Carter—but she is the only one who is still alive. Or…perhaps—a Sarah Rogers lived nearby—perhaps you are the Rogers boy, son of Joseph.”

“What do you know about that!” His wand went up.

Someone grabbed his wrist. He had felt nothing, sensed no one. So to look up at the very tall boy--

“Quicksilver—“ Natasha started. “Let him go—we’re leaving. We’ll go. Just stop.”

Steve threw his fist—Bucky was quick to jump in and follow up. The tall boy spun them like tops, throwing them down the hallway. Natasha jumped on his back, thighs locking around his neck. She threw herself backwards to toss him using her momentum. He hit the wall. He got up, shaking the hit off.

But Gypsy Witch—she was just looking at them.

“Go!” Natasha commanded.

“Who _are_ they?!” Steve demanded.

“Get out!” Natasha screamed at them.

Gypsy was raising her own wand. Her smile widened.

The kitchen door opened. And perhaps, too casually, a man walked out. He looked at the small group of teenagers who had ransacked the hallway.

Steve froze. Everything emptied from his head. His stomach plunged, icy cold. “Dad…”

The man did a double-take and then he looked sidelong at Gypsy Witch and Quicksilver. “Ana, Pietro. We’re done here. Let’s go.”

“What—Dad! Dad—what are you doing here—“

The man looked at them. He smiled. “I would advise you not to follow this thread, boy.”

“No—stop! Stop! Where are you going--!” His shoes scrapped on dirt. He grabbed onto the counter to launch himself at his father’s back.

Bucky grabbed Steve in mid-lurch, holding the skinny boy. “Steve, no! Stop! Stoppit!”

The man with his father’s face looked back to Gypsy Witch. “Ana—burn the house.”

The girl nodded. She did not use her wand---but a snap of her fingers. The gas stove in the kitchen flicked on. It burst.

The last thing Steve saw was his father’s back before something hit him.


	12. Allergic Reaction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My computer crashed a few days ago and I lost everything I was working on. So let me just recover. All my chapter notes, explanations, plot ideas--everything is gone.

Steve blinked, blearily. His eyes felt scratchy. His breathing seemed so loud. He jerked when a hand touched down on his forehead.

“Mister Rogers? Are you awake? I am Nurse Green—you are at St. Mungo’s.”

Steve’s eyes rolled over, taking in a tallish young man in pale robes. “Mungo’s…”

“Yeah, the wizards’ hospital. You are your friends were found in a burning house on the Muggle side.”

Steve started, gasping. “Where are they!” He jumped up—or tried to—Green grabbed his shoulders and pushed him back down. “Where are they! Are they all right?!”

“They’re fine. They left the day after—a few burns, bruises, broken bones—quickly mended. You took smoke damage—your lungs are very weak. But not to worry—you’ll be right as rain soon. They’ll be eager to hear that you’ve awakened.”

“How long have I been here?”

“Four days. You missed all the questionings from the Ministry and Mrs Barnes threatening to put her son _back_ in the hospital.”

Bucky and Natasha came in to see him as soon as they were allowed.

“Steve…that guy—he couldn’t be your Dad, right?”

Steve looked at Bucky and then down. “I don’t know…he looked like him.”

“There are potions that can change appearances,” Natasha reminded them. “It could have been that.”

“He’d have to have a hair sample to use a polyjuice potion, wouldn’t he?”

“Yes—but…there are other methods. We—”

The door opened and Winifred came in. “You! Damn you, Steve Rogers. Your stubbornness—what if you’d been killed!” She scooped Biscuit out of her purse. “And here. The pig has done nothing but cry since you left.”

“Biscuit!” Steve took the piglet gently, who nosed at him and then settled into his chest.

“No more of these shenanigans, young man,” Winifred told him. “You end up in the hospital more than all four of mine combined. I’ll have you know that George is excruciating proud of you.” Se huffed. “Stupid man,” she said, somehow looking fond and annoyed at the same time.

“He’s proud of me too,” Bucky said. And then, “Ow--!” when Winifred clipped him upside the head with her pocketbook.

They didn’t speak again of the people in the house until Winifred was gone and then Steve looked at Natasha. “How did you know those people? You knew them. What is Hydra? What is Shield?”

Natasha looked distinctly uncomfortable. She looked at Bucky and at Steve again. “I…” She scratched her hair.

“C’mon, Nat,” Bucky urged.

She nodded. “I know, I know. I never expected to see them here. I…grew up with Ana and Pietro. Gypsy Witch and Quicksilver were their code names. Mine was Black Widow. I—we grew up together in Russia—in an orphanage. We…were selected….ah—to be trained into Hydra…”

She looked away more insistently. “They’re twins—brother and sister…we were all about three when we were chosen. Trained as…well….assassins, spies…thieves.”

Steve stared at her. “W-what?”

“I’m not lying. It’s what happened. Hydra was descended from the Death Eaters. The remains of those who survived the culling after Voldemort was defeated. New World Order, take over the Muggles, that sort of thing.”

“Same shit, different day,” Bucky sighed.

Natasha shrugged a shoulder. “Yeah, pretty much. Shield was founded to…well, fight them. It was all a big secret, of course. But that picture you had—of the Shield members—I know who all those people are.”

Steve started. “The photo—“

“I’ve got it. Took it before the police could get their paws on it,” she said, taking it out. “these are the original founding members.”

“Hey—that’s Steele—the dragoneer lady. She came to my birthday party.”

“Yes-and her sometimes partner-in-crime, Jack Ridenour. Steve’s father, Joseph. Peggy Carter. Edward Stark—“

“Stark? Like—Tony?”

“His uncle—though he doesn’t know it. The Bartons here. And then Erskine, Hans. The seventh year’s father. But all of them are dead—except Peggy Carter.”

“My dad—“

“I know. He looked like your dad. But…I’ve always heard he was dead. We need more information.”

“So how did you get out of this…Hydra group?” Bucky asked, sitting back in his chair and seeming to examine her.

“Not easily. I was brought over here to England when I was nine. I was supposed to be training. I got picked up by a Shield operative instead. So they sent me to Hogwarts—figuring I would be well-protected from Hydra if they came looking for me.”

“Then why were they at the General’s house?”

“Taralina Sunshoer? She was a member of Shield. That little mark with the S in the middle that was on your mother’s lease? Shield symbol.”

“But she’s been dead for almost four years.”

“Yeah, she has. So they must have been looking for something in the house as well. And we have a horrendous sense of timing.”

Bucky stroked his chin. “So why would Steve’s dad need to go? He knew this lady, right? This General?”

“Yeah, according to one of my mom’s letters—he sent us there in November of 2005. Told my mother to speak to the General.”

“Wait a second—2005—isn’t that when those scientists disappeared from Hogwarts? The ones that were working on Caoimhe. The last experiments were dated in 2005, weren’t they?” Bucky said.

Natasha frowned.

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed. “….yeah, you’re right….”

 

When they returned to Hogwarts, they found Bruce Banner—looking far more haggard than usual. He liked Steve’s piglet though, held it during the Sorting. It seemed to take to him immediately. Loki sat at the Slytherin table, looking bored with the proceedings.

Bucky’s sister was sorted into Gryffindor. Natasha abandoned her seat at the Slytherin table to go whisper to Becca, making her giggle.

They were all surprised to see Caoimhe sitting up with the teachers. She looked distinctly uncomfortable when they introduced her as the new History of Magic professor.

The Headmaster then introduced Clint Barton, a transfer from a smaller wizarding school. He was sorted as a Gryffindor fifth year.

“Hey, Captain Trips—made it through another summer, eh?”

Steve felt something cold settle in him. He turned around in his seat. “Yeah, Horizon. See you did too. You still have all your teeth. Making up for the brain cells?”

“Maybe you’d like a beating early this year, Rogers?”

“Maybe I’d be happy for you to try. I’ve had just about enough, Horizon. You and your friends—leave me alone. Leave Charlotte alone.”

“Or what? Maybe we could have some fun with your mudblood Ruskie.”

Steve stared at Horizon for a long moment. And then he grabbed his plate and smashed it into the side of Horizon’s head. Food slopped over him and the ceramic shattered on his skull. Steve stood up, grabbing his glass and slamming it into the other side of Horizon’s head.

His friends leapt up, students jumped over the table and benches. Steve grabbed up a couple forks, holding them like daggers. Bucky was up, sprinted down the table, slamming his boot into Micah Licorice. Bruce normally would have stood but he did not, sitting with the piglet. Tony didn’t get up either. He burst into laughter, sitting beside Bruce and grinning at the chaos. Charlotte hopped out of the way as someone sent a punchbowl spinning out of control. Clint was beside her in a flash. “Boy, you were right, Lottie—this place really is different.” He struck a decanter of ice cream away from Natasha before it could smash into her skull.

By the time the teachers got them all separated, detentions were handed out in spades and all Houses were now in the negative points—it was time to go to the dorms. Steve didn’t care. He had a black eye and a busted lip but he felt better than he had in months.

_You either control life or it controls you._

He was done. Done tolerating. Done trying to be reasonable. He would never be done fighting—he had never been a quitter for that. But he wasn’t holding back anymore. If he was going to get beat up, so be it. He’d make sure the other guy remembered him, at least.

Besides, Thor was laughing and shaking Clint’s hand and beaming at Natasha and Bucky and Charlotte. They’d had a good time. Bruce and Tony joined them, where Steve got Biscuit.

“I didn’t think they allowed pigs,” Loki said quietly.

“Ha, in the dorms they don’t. But I don’t live there.” Steve winked.

Clint looked at him. “You don’t?”

“Nope, I live in the old groundkeeper’s shack.”

“Why?”

“Parents are dead,” Steve said, shrugging.

“Oh hey, mine too.”

For some reason, that made Steve laugh. “Oh really?” He reached out to shake Clint’s hand. “Well, you’ll have to come visit sometime. And if you have any illegal pets—I can keep them company.”

“I do have a dog I’d like to bring…”

“Do it,” Steve urged, smiling. “I like dogs.”

“Aren’t you allergic?” Bucky asked.

“No, that’s cats. Dogs just make me sneeze. Cats make me break out in hives and spots.”

Clint’s eyesbrows shot up. “Well, you don’t have t—“

“No, I want to,” Steve said jovially. “Besides, it doesn’t matter anyway.”

“He’s allergic to nature,” Charlotte told Clint.

“He’s allergic to the world,” Bucky added.

“Or maybe the world is allergic to me.”

Loki smiled.

 

When Steve arrived at the lab the next day, he found Tony already immersed in notes and papers. Bruce was nearby, sitting on a counter and strumming on a guitar. “Research?” Steve asked, getting up on a stool and pulling out his Potions book.

  
“Natasha and James came by and told me about what happened over the summer. Thought I’d look into it a little. The scientists disappeared after August of 2005—which was the same time your father started mentioning ‘Hydra’ in his letters to your mom, right?”

“Yep, sounds right.”

“So maybe they were part of Hydra. We proposed that the researchers here were trying to cure vampirism but maybe it was something else. Maybe they were trying to do experiments with the longevity component of vampire blood.”

“Like…learn to be immortal without becoming a vampire?” Steve clarified, taking out parchment for his essay.

“Yeah. Makes sense really. They could work under the guise of trying to help the vampires—but if Hydra came from the leftovers of the Death Eaters…it would make sense if they were trying to figure out the elements of vampiric genetic mutation. No more philosopher’s stone, no more Voldemort—so look for other methods, I guess.”

“So what happened to them?” Steve asked, glancing over his shoulder as Bucky entered. He moved over.

Bucky pulled up a stool. “Who is that Clint Barton guy? He shows up yesterday and he’s already chatting up Nat. Who does he think he is?”

Steve burst out laughing.

“I would guess that they were killed by whatever ruptured the last specimen tank over there,” Tony said, and then seemed to realize that the conversation had derailed. “And I—wait, huh? What?”

“Barton—that carnie. He’s some archer or something. Gryffindors want him on the Quidditch team. He refused! Refused! What kind of guy refuses to play Quidditch! And as a Seeker! He’s already chatting up Natasha—I think he wanted to study with her or some garbage this afternoon.”

“Oh, no! Not studying!”

“Shut up, Steve! Hey—hey, stop laughing!”

“Maybe you should take up archery,” Bruce told him.

Bucky scowled. “You are a jerk, Banner. You shut your damn mouth! But even if I did—I bet he’d find that I have pretty damn good aim too. I’m a sniper! I’m the best Beater our team has ever had.”

“Well, you’re right. That _must_ qualify you more than Barton.” Steve fought a grin hard. Bruce moved his ink well so he wouldn’t knock it over. “Maybe you should submit an application?”

“Dammit Steve! Stop laughing!”

The door opened again—this time it was Erskine who entered. “Steven Rogers—hallo.”

Everyone looked at him.

“I thought you graduated?” Steve asked.

“I am staying on as a teacher’s aid to Professor Beilschmidt. I have one last project that I am working on.”

“You need workspace?” Tony asked. “Cause I’m busy—so you’ll have to wait.”

“No, I have been working on this for some time. And I believe that very soon I will be able to conduct the final test.”

Bucky started. “You mean the—the potion for Steve?”

“What potion for me?”

“After your last struggle with pneumonia, I thought that I would begin to work on a serum for you, Rogers. Something to heal your body.”

“Heal it?”

“So you won’t be sick any longer.”

Steve stiffened. “What—how?!”

Erskine smiled in that gentle way of his. “That remains to be seen. There is risk involved—but I think we can do it. But the formula is not quite ready—soon though. Soon.”

“We should work on it together,” Tony drawled, still looking at the papers. “Show me your notes.”

“There are no notes.”

Tony’s eyes flicked up, peering at him. “What do you mean, no notes?”

“I mean there are none. One never knows who is looking over one’s shoulder.”

Tony sat up. Bruce did as well, both observing Erskine. “You realize how suspicious that sounds?”

“Of course,” Erskine said. “But that doesn’t matter. What matters is Mister Rogers here and making him healthy again.”

“We know your father was Hans Erskine,” Bucky said quietly.

Erskine looked sidelong at him. “Indeed—I wondered.” He pulled up another stool and sat down with them. “You have begun looking into the disappearances of the scientists who worked here?”

“Yeah, we have,” Tony told him.

“They were all at one time Death Eaters, apparently,” Erskine said. “Though they were working under the name Hydra when they vanished.”

“So we should talk to Peggy Carter,” Steve said. “Only one left from those who founded Shield. She’d know something.”

“Know what?” Bucky asked.

“I dunno—but more than us. Maybe she can tell us about that guy we saw.”

“What man?” Erskine asked.

“We went to have a look around near my old house—saw a man there who looked just like my dad. Had a couple of twins with him. Quicksilver and Gypsy Witch.”

Erskine looked away, eyebrows furrowed.

“Well, if Natasha was connected to a Shield operative—we should be able to contact Carter.” Tony said, still paging through documents.

The door opened again and in came Natasha, Clint sauntering behind her.

“Oh, oh, this is members only,” Bucky said, nose wrinkling.

“Guess he got his application in before yours?”

“Shut up, Steve!”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Clint—everyone. Tony Stark, Bruce Banner—“

“You should really explain us, Natasha. Tony Stark, creator of the Stark-Banner Serum.”

“Co-creator.”

“Yeah, yeah, details.”

“—James Barnes, Slytherin Beater; Steve Rogers….constantly sick kid—“ (Steve laughed.) “—and Abraham Erskine, can make butterbeer in his home lab. Where’s Thor and Loki?”

“Thor is serving his detention for yesterday,” Steve answered, smiling. “Professor Jones is having him go out into the Forbidden Forest with him. No better person to have in detention when you need supplies from the forest, I guess.”

“And Loki?”

Bucky shrugged. “He’s been keeping to himself lately. Something happened at home, I think. He’s being pretty closed-lipped about it. Moreso than usual.”

“He found out he’s a changeling,” Natasha supplied. “I guess he’s not Thor’s blood brother. At least, that’s what I heard. Amazing what these guys will tell you if you just ask sometimes. Thor needed to talk to someone, I think. He’s taking it almost as hard as Loki.”

They all absorbed that information for a moment, except Tony, who said, “Tch, well, it’s not that surprising. I mean, have you seen the two of them stand next to each other? One looks like he stepped out of some Australian surfing ad—“

“Tony.” Bruce started.

“—and the other one looks like a nerd from a comic book convention.”

Bruce whacked him upside the head.

“What! I didn’t say it was bad! I mean, not everyone can have it all, you know!”

“Loki is cute,” Natasha said, lifting her eyebrows. “Just in a different way than Thor.”

Steve exchanged a look with Tony. “What does that mean?”

“I mean—with Thor, you go to a hockey game or you go to the beach. With Loki, you’d go, you know, to a museum or something.”

Steve leaned over to Bucky. “Maybe you should put that on your form?”

“You goddamn punk.” Bucky tried to clip him in the ear but Steve ducked.

“What?” Natasha asked.

“Nothing,” Bucky said sharply.

“Hey Nat—you said when you came here you were picked up by a Shield operative—do you think we could use this operative to contact Carter?” Steve asked.

Natasha glanced at Clint. “Well, guess we’re including you now.” She looked back at Steve. “Yes, I can, actually.”

“Floo network or maybe meet him or her in Hogsmeade?” Bruce asked.

“Not necessary,” she said. “I can take you right now.”

“Really? Where?”

 

 

Natasha approached the door. “ _Tom Servo_ ,” she said and waited. There was a quiet _chink_ and the door spun around and then opened.

“Professor Jones…?” Steve said, looking at the others.

“You’re a Shield operative?” Bucky asked.

Professor Jones was sitting on top of his desk, looking through a large book. He glanced at Natasha and then smiled. “Guess that cat’s out. Yep—got Natasha here. I understand you need help finding Agent Carter—ol’ Pegasus.”

Tony and Bruce looked at each other and then back at Jones.

“Erskine, you tagged along, I see. How’s that serum coming along?”

Erskine didn’t look at the others, just nodded. “It’s almost ready for testing.”

“You get anymore of those letters from Schmidt?”

  
“Yes. He has my father and mother’s notes. I tell him many times that their serum was incomplete—but I think he tried it anyway.”

“Well, that may be something he lives to regret.” Jones put his book down. “Rogers, you’re gonna be our lucky guy. Erskine came to me, said he wanted to help you. We’ve got you scheduled for the official trial in a few months, if you’re interested. Say at winter break?”

Steve nodded, feeling numb.

“Wait—wait—“ Bucky said. “Hold up—we didn’t come here to ask about that. We need to talk to Peggy Carter.”

“I figured,” Jones said. “That would be one of only two or three reasons why Natasha would bring you here. She even used my super-special password.”

“Tom Servo,” Steve repeated. “From… _Mystery Science Theater_?”

Jones grinned. “I knew I liked you, Rogers.”

“What is that?” Bucky asked.

"I'll tell you later."

“Anyway,” Jones continued. “Carter is in hiding—she’s getting up there in years but—every once in awhile she still has to shake off a Hydra tail. I’ll send her a letter. Have her come to the Ministry to see the serum Erskine has developed.”

 

They would have to wait almost a month to hear back from Carter—who agreed to meet them over winter break at the ministry.

Steve tried not to focus on it. Fifth year meant OWLS and focusing in on his studies. Clint Barton brought him his German Shepherd Trick Shot. Biscuit made a friend with another pig—who Steve eventually had to hunt down—only to discover that it was Loki.

He looked almost apologetic and then smiled. “So I can…change my looks on a whim.”

“That’s beyond a changeling, Loki. You’re a metamorphagi. Also, you're going to seriously confuse my pig.”

Loki turned into Thor. “You are one of us, Brother.” Then back into Loki. “I like it more than I thought I would.”

“Do the teachers know yet?”

“Ha, of course not. Do you know how much fun I’ve had?”

Steve smiled. “Sometimes I think the world is allergic to you too.”

Loki’s smirk softened. “Ha, well. At least it’s not in the same way as you.”

"That's all right, Loki."


	13. Remain a Good Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve/Bucky

Steve held Biscuit up against his shirt. She snuffled at him, settling against his thin chest. Her body spanned the whole length of his torso—he was so small. It was funnier to give her to Thor—because he was so huge. 

Also, Steve thought it was hilarious, watching Thor’s face light up. His eyes would get all shiny as he waited his turn to hold the piglet. 

“Come, my pig! Into battle!” He said, pulling out a little leather harness. “Look at this! I made it for Biscuit!” He sat down, the huge boy, putting Biscuit on his knee and carefully putting the little harness on her. “It is like the harnesses for my father’s war horses! Look!” He got up, leaning over to show Steve the tiny rivets that were stamped with the Asgard crest.

“Wow…that is…actually pretty impressive. You did this yourself?”

“Well—well….mostly. Each rivet is handmade—too small and too fine of work for me to do. Loki did it for me.”

Steve blinked. “Really?” 

Thor smiled, something softening in his face. “He pretended not to like it.”

“Can we actually rename the pig? How about something vicious—Killer or something.” Bucky poked a pawn into moving forward. 

“I’m not renaming my pig.”

“Something fierce!” Bucky insisted, not noticing how Bruce directed his knight to take out the pawn, dragging it back across the board. “Name her Voldemort! The Pig Who Must Not Be Named! Or, oh, oh! I know! Bellatrix!”

“That is in terrible taste, Bucky.” 

“I know, I know.” Bucky looked back and started. “Hey! Where’d my pawn go!” He glared up at Bruce.

The werewolf smiled.

“Do not worry, Biscuit. They do not understand that a name does not make a warrior fierce,” Thor said, sagely lifting the little pig to his face. “But the inner drive, the spirit inside, the determination and will—that makes you fierce.” He said intently to the pig.

The pig looked back. Then she licked his nose.

Thor blinked. “Er. Indeed. Be strong and fast, Biscuit, lest you become bacon.” He handed the pig back to Steve.

Erskine slipped up to their table. “Rogers, if you wouldn’t mind—I’d like to get some measurements of your limbs so we can make a size comparison later.”

Steve shrugged. “Sure.” He stood up. 

“How about Shark? Name the pig Shark. That’d be awesome.”

“Shut up, Bucky.” He cupped Biscuit and walked with Erskine to the groundskeeper’s cottage. 

 

“I don’t know that there will be any need to do this—but I thought just in case—“ Erskine seemed to notice Biscuit. “…..where did you get that pig?” 

“Huh—oh, I found her out by the shack. She was just snuffling around so I took her in.”

Erskine reached over, gentling scratching her head. “My earlier experiments—I worked with a pig—I thought a dose I’d given her had done nothing but then she disappeared. I wonder if it’s the same pig.”

“Whoa, so this might be a science pig? Cool.” 

At the cottage, Steve removed his shirt and held out his arms. His thin chest expanded with an inhale. Erskine counted his ribs and measured the circumference of his chest, arms, wrists, legs, ankles and neck. 

“I have seen you try many things, Rogers. Over and over—even in the face of certain failure.” Erskine sat down across from him. 

“This project—was it for me or for Shield?” Steve asked him.

Erskine looked up at him. “….well, both, to be completely honest. I did start with the intention of wanting to help you. But when I began to receive letters from Johann Schmidt…I shared it with Professor Jones, who passed it on to the others of Shield. This was always going to be a dangerous project—even though you might not realize—this has never been done before. The world was astounded—I was astounded—by Stark and Banner. And they will be again if this works.”

“Who is Schmidt?”

“A member of Hydra, former Death Eater. The cult of the Death Eaters did not exist only in England but onto the mainland as well. Prejudice is everywhere, Rogers. Most in the wizarding world want to live in peace with our Muggle counterparts. But there are some who don’t believe that. Schmidt heard about the work of my mother and my father—and he stole it. Their work is incomplete—which I know because mine began from it. Schmidt believes this potion will grant him a god’s power. It will not do this—it was never designed for that. It is designed to enhance the human, the woman, the man. To be the perfection of their potential. What is bad, becomes horrific; what is good, becomes extraordinary.”

“So why me? This—too much planning has gone into this for you to just pick me out of the goodness of your heart.”

Erskine smiled. As always, his smile was tired. “You are still learning. We all are still learning. I don’t believe that I have selected you too early—you are the kind of person who doesn’t change much as he ages. You’re a good man. You will be a good man and you will remain a good man. That is what I want.” 

Erskine pulled his measuring tape in, marking the numbers down. “Remain a good man.” 

 

Three months passed. Becca joined the Gryffindor Quidditch team as a Chaser. Clint was teaching Natasha how to use a bow—much to Bucky’ chagrin. Steve found himself more in the company of Bruce as the day of the experiment sped upon them. The werewolf had already decide to go with him. Erskine allowed this—as Steve had no family. Bucky demanded permission to come—but there was no other spot for him and Steve pulled him aside into the cottage.

“You have family. Be with them this year, okay. I’ll be fine. I’ll be at the Ministry. Erskine on one side—Bruce up in the box—and—“

“What if something happens, you dope?”

“Then you won’t be able to do anything anyway. C’mon, Buck. Go be with your own family for once. Or plot how many letters you should write to Natasha before she gets a restraining order.”

Bucky half-smiled. “This is gonna be dangerous, you know? It ain’t some walk in the park, Steve.”

“I know. And if anyone else knows—it’s Bruce. He’s done this already.”

“His was different, Steve. He had Tony.”

“I know that. But he understands. And I trust Erskine. He—“

Bucky shoved him back against the wall, sliding his arms around him. “If you die, I’m gonna be so pissed.”

“Bucky—I’m not gonna die—“ Steve’s voice hitched, feeling Buck grab into his shirt and jerk it out of his trousers.

“You don’t know that.” Bucky jerked his belt open, pinning Steve against the wall with one hand.

“Bucky—if anything is gonna kill me, it’s gonna be pneumonia or something like that. Not a doctor’s visit. That would be almost too ironic.”

“That’s not funny.” Bucky grabbed him. “You’re my best damn friend, you idiot. If you die, I’ll electroshock you until you wake up and then kill you myself.” He curled his palm around his length, stroking.

“I’m pretty sure—ah—God keeps me around to get a laugh, Buck—“

Bucky suddenly whipped him around, pressing his front up against the wall. The need to possess him, make him real, remind him that Steve was alive and well. And would remain so. He pressed up against Steve’s scrawny back. He heard the smaller boy grunt, make some sort of sound in protest—but Bucky tipped his head back and grabbed his mouth, dominating, hard, ruthless. He felt Steve’s spine curve, one fist in his blond hair, holding Steve to his mouth. Bucky’s other hand in his trousers, stroking. He towered over Steve now by a full twelve inches, at least. It was nothing to keep him pinned against the wall, exerting his greater strength, dominate hold on him. He could feel the tension in Steve’s arms—slender muscle twitched, fighting his grip. But Steve couldn’t break it—his chest hitched and he came on Bucky’s fingers. Bucky held him in place by his hair and his cock, feeling Steve shake a little—and then drug him over to his bed. He pushed Steve down again.

“B-Buck—are you okay—“

Bucky reached around to Steve’s face, pushing two fingers into his mouth to quiet him. He stripped him, rough fingers sliding up—like before break. Sliding two fingers up inside of him. 

Steve’s fingers dug into the quilt, screwing his eyes shut and mashing his nose against the soft blanket. He felt Bucky touch that spot again—that one that made his control unravel. He felt Bucky breathing hard next to his ear. “Want to fuck you,” he grunted.

Steve froze. “Wh-what?”

“Want to. If something happens to you—don’t want any regrets.”

“Bucky—“

“Steve,” he said and nosed at his bared shoulder, sucking on the pale skin. He massaged his prostate. He felt Steve groan, start to relax again. It seemed like a hazy blur, pulling back to slick his cock up, massaging oil into his friend and then slowly, slowly, easing into him. “Dammit Steve…” 

Steve shuddered, but his mind emptied out. Emptied of worries, emptied of cares, of guilt, regrets—empty of all of that—except—

Feeling Bucky fully seated was…strange and full and almost unbearably hot. Then slowly, slowly moving together. Buck’s feet were braced on the floor, holding Steve down onto the bed. One hand on Steve’s shoulder, the other on his hip and then shifting, leaning over—grunting and jerked harder inside of him. Steve grunted, coughing back a groan. Buck got onto the bed with him, hands going to his hips to hold him up. Leaning over and sucking on the base of his spine. Steve could hear a hot breath in his ear then:

“Oh….damn…God, you’re warm…”

It sent a fiery heat into Steve’s belly. 

But Bucky did not move faster—slow and deep. Thorough, completely inside, pulling almost all the way out and then sliding back in. Massaging every nerve ending, frenzied heat in carefully controlled thrusts. He wrapped an arm around Steve’s waist, pulling him up against his chest, seating himself more fully in him. Sheathed and full and hot, grinding up into him now. Other hand going down to grab his cock, stroking, massaging, slow.

Steve grit his teeth, making no sound. The slow pull and stretch of skin on his cock, the grind inside—too much. Too much to comprehend. Buck’s fingers trailing up, rucking into Steve’s hair, using sweat to make it stick up everywhere. 

He came again, felt Bucky grunt and then follow him. Steve shuddered. “B-Buck….” He tried.

Bucky turned him over, staring at him with that strange intensity. “Now, you do me.”

“B-Bucky…I’ve never—“

“Doesn’t matter. It’s fine. I want you to.”

“Buck…”

Bucky nodded to him, looking right into his eyes.

And so Steve sat up, watching, trembling as Bucky slicked his cock up. And then directing Steve in preparing him. It was a little messy—but when Steve held onto Buck’s hips and succumbed to his urging—he pressed inside. He was not so well-endowed as Buck but he could make his presence known. The feeling was so overwhelming that for a moment, he couldn’t do anything. He grunted, fingernails digging into him. Bucky reached behind him to grab Steve and help him. 

And then the fierce little guy seemed to forget himself, fucking him with abandon. He bit Buck’s shoulder and then stroked him to try and help him come. Steve’s lungs couldn’t take it—and he collapsed on Bucky’s shoulder after he came. Bucky rolled over to grab him, propping him up so he could breath better. 

“This break—things are gonna change again,” Bucky told him quietly. “But after that—we move on—we go.”

“…go…where?” Steve asked, looking at him, glassy-eyed.

“To the future, wherever that may be.”

 

 

Steve arrived with Bruce, Erskine and Professor Jones at the Ministry of Magic. They were whisked away to a private laboratory so that Erskine could get set up. Jones stayed with Steve. The staff—attending healers and, to Steve’s surprise, Mister Stark—came to check on him.

“Mister Stark?”

Howard Stark smiled. “Indeed—it’s a secret. Don’t tell anyone. Here, now, put on these scrubs. We don’t want your clothes to get messed up.”

Steve did as directed and then he was led back to the laboratory. Bruce had his arms crossed, studying the lab. He didn’t fidget but he looked uneasy. He gently took Steve’s arm. “You don’t have to do this. If you pull out now, no one would blame you.”

Steve shook his head. “I’m ready.”

Bruce was about to say more—but Stark gently touched his arm, directing him up to the observation booth. Erskine helped Steve lie down. “Are you ready?”

“Y-yeah…” Steve said faintly. Perhaps he truly had not realized just how important this was. Equipment—a blend of Muggle and Wizard technology…machines and so many people…

Steve took a deep breath. He hadn’t expected this. Up in the booth, Professor Jones gave him a thumbs up, looking concerned. Steve swallowed hard and returned it, nodding.

“All right, Steve…are you ready to begin?” Erskine asked him and only him, softly.

Steve took a deep breath and then nodded. 

The capsule folded in on him, encasing the boy in steel. Bruce stood up in the booth, hands pressing against the glass. Steve had never looked so small to him before. An older lady, pretty and regal, stood beside him. Her lips were thin and anxious. Bruce curled his fist against the glass. He gritted his teeth—when the lights flashed. Bulbs burst—

And it suddenly occurred to Bruce that this lab was equipped with Tony’s self-regulating force field electrical power.

Steve screamed.

The older lady grabbed Bruce’s arm, holding him in place. “Mister Banner—please remain calm.”

The machines beeped, whining higher and higher. Bruce jerked away from the glass and opened the booth door. The screaming was louder out here.

Howard Stark hesitated on the controls, looked at Erskine. 

“Abraham!” Bruce yelled. “He’s—“

“No—no! Do it!” Steve’s voice was haggard inside the capsule. “Do it!”

Erskine looked at Stark and nodded.

Up it went. Up and up and up—the light, the screams intensified—and then the power cut. The large capsule shifted back into place and opened.

 

Bruce’s hands fell to his sides, eyes widening, mouth dropping open. The capsule opened and for a moment, Bruce was sure that Steve was going to jump out from behind the machinery, yell _surprise!_ and that would be it. Good Ministry field trip. But Steve didn’t jump out.

The man in the capsule—that couldn’t be Steve…that….he was so big…

Bruce jumped over the railing and ran to the capsule, just in time to catch the man when he crumbled. Bruce could only stare, stare at this…this man. This man who was not the skinny, frail little thing he’d spoken to this morning. Whose voice begged them to keep going. This body—was a foot taller, more than a hundred pounds heavier and stacked with _muscle_. “S-Steve?”

For a long moment, the boy that had been Steve Rogers couldn’t speak. But his eyes opened and he stared up at Bruce. “Bruce?”

“Yeah—are you okay? S-Steve? You…you _are_ Steve, right?”

“I—yeah, I—“

_Avada kedavra!_

Bruce instinctively transformed—

Erskine was up and moving—

Green flashes—

Screaming—

Bruce up and off, chasing after someone—

Steve tried to get up, staggered, fell to his knees at Erskine’s side. “Abraham…” he breathed, grabbing into his shirt. “Erskine!” 

He was already dead. 

Steve scrambled up—and was wildly disoriented. He couldn’t quite figure out why everything seemed lower than he remembered. But his mind was whirling so fast—not sure how he knew—but chasing after Bruce. Bare feet sliding on tile into the hallway. Everything felt strange—but no time to process. He smashed through a door—

Bruce had the man by his shoulder, teeth buried deep inside. The man had one of the empty serum bottles—perhaps hoping to get a tiny sample. Bruce grabbed it, throwing it from them—it smashed against the wall. 

Aurors were appearing everywhere, wands leveled at Bruce.

“No—no! Not him!” Steve yelled, running to Bruce’s side. “He’s Bruce Banner!” He knelt down. “Was this the guy who ran?”

Bruce closed his eyes, shaking and then forced himself to change back. He shuddered for breath. “Yeah…” he smacked his lips. “Fabric tastes like sunflowers, corn, dust. From a rural region.” 

Steve put a bracing hand on Banner and, with the other, flipped the man over. “Who are you?”

But the man’s eyes lot their light almost instantly—his chest arrested and blood and bile bubbled out of him. 

“Imperius curse,” said one of the Aurors, checking inside the man’s mouth. “Made his lungs burst. Sick. You boys okay?”

Bruce swallowed, nodding. “Y-yeah…Steve, you…”

Steve looked down—suddenly realizing that he wasn’t panting. That he wasn’t tired. That nothing hurt. That….

He held his hands out in front of himself and sat down hard on the tile. He looked at Bruce.

“You’re taller, buddy.” 

Steve looked at himself. “I…my…” His hands felt strong. So strong. Like he could do anything. Lift a car, uproot a tree. He looked at Bruce again.

Bruce laughed, offering him a hand to help him up. “C’mon…you…ha, it’s a good look for you, Stevie.” 

“I’m taller…” Steve said, startling as he looked down at Bruce.

“Yeah….yeah, you are.”


	14. New Wands, Old Wands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More on Wand Woods: http://pottermore.wikia.com/wiki/Wand_Woods
> 
> And wand cores: http://pottermore.wikia.com/wiki/Wand_Cores

Steve sat next to Bruce, both in threadbare black suits and sitting in the back row, watching procession. Abraham Erskine was dead. Bruce had his elbows on his knees, resting his chin on his palm. “It’s not your fault,” he said.

Steve looked away, back to the front. Erskine had no remaining relatives. He looked incredibly lonely up near the front of the room. He glanced back over at Bruce, who was still watching him. “He deserved better.”

“A lot of people deserve better. And some deserve less—but well…you know.”

“That’s life.”

“Yeah. He’s given you a gift, Steve. Ha…even I can still hardly believe it and I watched it happen.”

“Thanks for the suit, by the way.”

“Keep it—looks better on you. We should go to Diagon Alley, you know—get you your own wand and stuff.”

“Yeah…I suppose I have the money now…”

Bruce nodded and looked back at Erskine in his lonely casket. “From our werewolf serum, I’ve made just enough to set my father up in London. Now he drinks expensive alcohol to drown his sorrows. So not much different than usual. Tony insisted on you getting his share of the patent money. He didn’t want anyone to know, of course. You know how he is.”

Steve looked at Bruce and smiled a little. “….yeah.”

“Most of it went to buying your mother’s house, ensuring your continued education at Hogwarts—that Agent Coulson he sent after she died—he was a lawyer. There’s a special nitch market for them, you know—I mean, all the legal issues between the Muggle and Wizarding sides. Plus your mother being born overseas…he was able to swing a lot of things.”

“I guess I hadn’t even thought about it…how odd it was that he was so well-versed in both legal sides.”

“It’s like Madam Williams—the nurse at Hogwarts—she has extensive knowledge of medical issues for both sides. She has to—because of the mixed student population. They try and act like the Wizarding side is a big secret—but really, it’s almost like a conspiracy theory. A lot of people know about it—but no one talks about it. Even I didn’t know that Howard Stark would be there. I’m not sure Tony even knows he was there.”

“I was surprised too.”

“Yeah—I guess what I’m trying to say is—Tony has a hard time making friends. Doesn’t play well with others. But he cares, in his own way. He respects his father and loves him—but they aren’t real personal with each other. He was at another boarding school before this one. Tony made sure though—that you would have the best legal stuff you could. He took care of everything behind the scenes and never said a word. He’s good like that. The little jackass.” Bruce chuckled. “So now that the Ministry wants to keep an eye on you—actually give you something to live on—you should use it. I dunno about you—but I actually find that I like having clothes that don’t have holes in them. And I’ve patched more socks than I care to count.”

“I suppose I should anyway….none of my old robes are going to fit.”

“I’ll go with you. If you want?”

“I’d like that, Bruce.”

At the burial, the classy older lady appeared again. “I was afraid you both might have left already.”

Steve blinked and looked at Bruce blankly.

“Ma’am?” Bruce said. “Oh—wait! You were the lady in the booth!”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “I am Peggy Carter.” She watched the first shovelful of dirt go over the poor Erskine boy’s grave. “I understand that you are Joseph Rogers’ son.”

“Yes, ma’am…I am.”

“And you ran into a man who looked like your father—from what AJ told me at Hogwarts.”

“Yes….at the General’s house on the Muggle side.”

“The General…Sunshoer?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “Do you know what Hydra would have been doing at her house?”

The pretty lady’s eyes narrowed. “It was a safehouse for Shield. The Shield—ah, perhaps that’s what they were looking for. You have the photo of us, don’t you?”

Steve glanced around and then took out his wallet, removing the photo and showing it to her.

She looked at it for a long time. Something in her gaze darkened, saddened. She touched Hans Erskine in the photo. Everyone in the picture was quiet, looking up at Peggy Carter. Except her younger self, grasping tighter at the palms of the people next to her. “I’ve watched every one of them go to the ground. But the Shield here—it is imbued with magical properties. Hydra thought Hans’ serum would give them god-like power…it turned Schmidt into a monster. But the Shield is a magical artifact. It was buried secretly…first with Hans—then at the General’s house—and then we moved it to Gringott’s until we could secure it at Hogwarts.”

“Hogwarts?” Bruce asked.

“Yes…I get the feeling that Schmidt used Joseph Rogers’ face because he didn’t know that first, the General is dead. And second, that we’d moved the Shield a long time ago. Schmidt is good at wearing masks. He can create them—and they look very real. It’s difficult to tell the difference. You all might want to start using passcodes. It sounds paranoid, I know—but if he enters Hogwarts…it will be important.”

Steve folded the picture up and put it back in his wallet.

Peggy looked up at him. “Your father was a good man. A good friend. Your mother was too—she kept up a good front for him as the clueless Muggle housewife—but she knew what was happening. She protected you and him for many years. He wanted to come home to the two of you more than anything else in the world.”

Steve wet his lip. “Is he buried somewhere? Somewhere that I could go see?”

“We buried him near Ravenclaw’s Manor. That was his house at Hogwarts, Ravenclaw. We buried him beneath the apple trees.”

“Thank you, ma’am, Ms Carter, I mean.”

She gently patted Steve’s arm. “If you need something again, talk to AJ—er, Professor Jones. He can help you—I have to secure a new location now that I know that Hydra is active again. Thank you, Rogers. Mister Banner, it was good to meet you.”

And with a pop, she was gone.

Steve laid flowers for Erskine, as did Bruce and the two left for Diagon Alley together.

After they were gone, after everyone was gone and the snow started to fall. Professor Bielschmidt appeared from the trees. She folded her arms, looking at Erskine’s grave. “Dammit, kid… you should have told me….”

 

At Diagon Alley, Steve and Bruce spent Christmas at the Leaky Cauldron. Steve was fitted for new robes and Bruce laughed and hassled him into getting some dress robes. Steve felt awkward in the dark liquid silver fabric. But the effect it had on his broad chest was rather stunning.

“I’m still not used to it,” Steve said. “Everything seems so much lower and I keep getting disoriented.”

“I’m not sure how the others are going to react—I mean, you might be as big as Thor now.”

“Do you think they’ll get all weird about it?”

“They’re not gonna ditch you, Steve—at least, I know I won’t. Would be kind of hypocritical, you know?”

Steve led them into Ollivander’s. “I don’t think they would but…I dunno—I always kind of half-expect it.”

“We can’t help what we’re used to,” Bruce shrugged. “When Tony just blurted out that I was a werewolf—I was sure you all would tell me to go away.”

“Ha, not that lucky, I guess,” Steve smiled.

 

Bruce watched old Ollivander approach, stepping back to let him examine Steve. “You have been through recent change, haven’t you, lad. Something has changed you…and now you are here for a wand.” The old man circled Steve. “Yes…you used a family wand. May I see it?”

Steve watched the old man carefully and then pulled out his grandmother’s wand.

“Ah yes,” said Ollivander. “Applewood, Dragonheart string, nine inches and bendy. This belonged to Olivia DeLane.”

“She was my grandmother.”

“An accomplished witch,” said Ollivander. “This wand was powerful in her hands. Good for illusions and Charms. But for you…no. Your magic has changed—unsuited to the limitations of this wand.” He handed the wand back reverently. “That is not for you. For you, lad, something else.”

Ollivander went back to his stock—taking out four wands and bringing them back. “You have been through turmoil and great change, Mister Rogers. Here are four wands, Ash, Walnut, Cherry, Yew.”

Steve touched each one lightly, and then his fingers settled on the left one. He took it out, feeling warmth rush into his fingers.

“A strong bond. Ash wood is known to bond with one master, unicorn hair core, fourteen inches and rather rigid. Strong in your beliefs, your ideals, Mister Rogers. Stubborn, courageous but never arrogant. The Ash and the unicorn hair is an uncommon combination—the loyalty of the wood and the purity of the hair—truly, Mister Rogers, an intense partnership.”

Steve slid his fingers over the shaft. He paid for the wand. He almost didn’t want to put it back in its case. “Did you get a new wand after the serum?” he asked Bruce as they exited the shop.

“Yes. I used my father’s old wand—it was volatile. We didn’t work well together. But after the serum, I came here…” Bruce pulled out his own wand. “Larch wood—said to have hidden talents. Ollivander said it instills courage and confidence. Dragonheart string core—and it’s eleven inches long.”

“I suppose because I always had a used wand—I never really looked at the other’s wands.”

Bruce smiled. “I was the same—but after I got mine, I did. Thor uses a Rowan wand, Dragonheart String core—about ten a half inches long—clear-headed, pure-hearted, good at dueling. Tony has a Spruce wand, unicorn hair, eleven inches long—hahaha, which is perfect because Spruce is difficult to deal with and a drama queen. Like Tony. But extremely powerful in the right hand.”

Steve laughed.

“Loki’s wand is really impressive—I was surprised by it. It’s Hornbeam with a Phoenix core, little over twelve inches long, really rigid. He never has to worry about wand thieves—his wand won’t even make a spark for anyone but him. Natasha has a Hawthorn wand, with a unicorn core—it’s ten inches long, whippy though. Hawthorn wands are said to be difficult to master—apparently ideal for witches and wizards who are conflicted.”

“Really—where did you learn all this, Bruce?”

“I was curious after I received my own wand. I like the lore. It’s interesting stuff.

“What about Bucky?”

  
“English Oak—strength, courage, loyalty and apparently has powerful intuition.” He chuckled. “Maybe one day, right?”

Steve smiled gently.

“The core is Dragonheart string—and it’s about ten and a quarter inches.”

“Huh, that is interesting, Bruce. Maybe you should go into wands, eh?”

“It _is_ interesting. Might be a good career path if this whole science and magic thing doesn’t pan out. That guy Clint Barton—he has a Redwood wand.”

“I didn’t even know they used Redwood for wands.”

“Yeah, apparently they’re well-suited for people who are…well, adaptable, lucky even.”

“Must be—adopted by Charlotte’s family—he said he had a warlock in his brain? And then his parents died—“ Steve stopped on the sidewalk. He looked at Bruce.

Bruce looked back. “The Bartons….you don’t suppose…”

Steve pulled out the photograph. “His parents?”

“Could be. He looks like the lady. What is the story with the warlock in his brain, anyway?”

“…I dunno. But I think we should find out.”

“Well, give it a few days—everyone is going to have a heart attack when they see you at school again.”

 

 

Steve wasn’t sure how to break the news to everyone. He went to his cottage, hung up his new robes and placed his grandmother’s wand in his new wand’s case. He patted the Ash wood, sliding it into his pocket.

Bucky appeared first, banging on the door and then just opening it. He started. “Who the hell are—“ And then he froze. “S-Steve?”

Steve stayed sitting at the table. “Yeah…uh. It’s me. Hey Bucky.”

Bucky stared at him. “Wh—but—w-what…” He sank down into a chair. “What….what happened to you?”

“Erskine’s formula worked…um. And…it changed…me. I mean—physically…changed.”

“Bruce didn’t say what—he just—when I ran into him inside—he said that…that things were different and I better just….just go see you….”

“I’m, uh….I’m tall now.”

Bucky stood up and his eyes got wider when Steve stood up. When he had to _look up_. “Oh my God.” He sunk back into his chair in time for the door to open again.

Thor growled. “Who are you—“ And then he looked at Loki, then back at Steve. “Steve?”

Loki studied him, eyebrows going up.

Natasha showed up with Clint and Charlotte. “Holy shit, what happened to you!”

“I can’t even get my arms around you to hug you now!” Charlotte exclaimed.

Tony showed up last and he just laughed. “Where’s Erskine! We gotta congratulate him!”

Steve’s smile dimmed a little. “Erskine was killed—didn’t get in the Prophet, eh?”

“No….no, it didn’t,” Natasha said, quieting.

“What happened?” Tony asked.

“Hydra, probably. A man used an Unforgivable on him—and tried to steal one of the potion vials. Bruce stopped him—but he was being controlled by the Imperio curse—whoever was controlling him killed him. And then we met Peggy Carter…”

He quickly explained that conversation.

“Huh, so the Shield is here somewhere in the castle. I wonder if any of the teachers are Hydra agents,” Natasha mused, examining Steve’s new robes.

“Well, Professor Jones is a Shield agent—stands to reason there might be other Shield agents in the castle. And if so—then they would have rooted out the Hydra ones—in theory,” Thor said. He waved hands. “Up, up, my friend.”

Steve stood.

Thor beamed. “You are now as big as me, my friend. Soon, you will understand the satisfaction when those bullies now run from you. I’m glad for you, brother.” And then Thor embraced him in a huge bear-hug. “I would once have crushed you!” He said happily.

Steve couldn’t help but laugh and hug him back. “You’re right.”

Tony lifted his phone. “It’s Kodak moment, hashtag musclebros,” he said aloud as his phone clicked. “Right onto Twitter.”

“Wait, you got internet on your phone?” Charlotte demanded.

“I built this phone myself! It’s not out yet! Don’t you—no, you can’t borrow it!”

Bucky got up while they bickered. “Uh, Steve, uh…” He opened up his messenger bag. “Uh…Biscuit’s been real quiet.” He pulled out the piglet.

Steve smiled. “Hey, Biscuit.” He reached for her. She was so tiny in his huge hands now. Once she had spanned his whole torso. Now she barely seemed larger than a toy. Steve pulled her to his chest. But the piglet gazed up at him silently.

“I don’t think she recognizes me. I probably smell different now…”

“And you’re a lot warmer,” said Bucky.

“I am?”

“Yeah, dude—you’re like a furnace. I can feel it from here.”

Steve smiled again. “C’mon, Biscuit. Don’t you remember me?”

The piglet was quiet for another moment and then squirmed and tussled. Steve set her on the table and she skittered across it to Loki. He picked up the piglet, giving Steve an apologetic look.

“We shall watch out for your pig until she remembers you,” Thor said, clapping Steve on the shoulder.

“Thank you,” Steve murmured. “Geez, Thor—you’re strong enough to down a draft horse. You must have treated me like glass before this.”

“I did. I will admit, I was often afraid of hurting you.” He smiled. “But now! There is no need, my friend!” He clapped Steve on the shoulder again and then offered his own shoulder.

Steve couldn’t help snorting on a laugh and he clapped Thor on the shoulder.

“A powerful arm, my friend! You shall learn to use it quickly! I will teach you Quidditch!”

Bucky was still standing next to Steve, looking lost. But it was Natasha who said, “Okay, let’s split. It’s time for dinner.” She herded the others away.

Bucky stayed. He kept staring at him.

“Buck…?”

“I just—I…didn’t expect this. I mean—it’s great. It’s wonderful. I just…”

“S’kind of a shock, I imagine. It was for me—and Bruce too.”

“You’re so different.”

“But—I mean—yes but…just on the outside,” Steve insisted. “I’m the same inside.”

Bucky nodded a little and reached out, gently touching Steve’s arm. “Christ on a bike…you really are like a furnace. You were always so cold before.”

“My metabolism runs about four times faster now….um, according to Erskine…it’s designed to change the human body to its peak ability and condition. I thought it might just heal the asthma and other stuff. But…this is…you know. It’s. Crazy.”

Bucky stepped forward, forcing Steve to step back, leaning against the kitchen table. Bucky examined him, eyes first. Then his fingers went up, spidering across his skin, the musculature. “I still can’t believe it…I mean, did it change, you know, _everything_?”

Steve blinked. “Er. Well. Um. Yes.”

Bucky’s eyebrows went up. “Even…”

“Yes.” His shoulders hunched, embarrassed.

“Holy shit,” Bucky sunk down to sit in the chair again. “That’s crazy.”

“I know.”

Bucky couldn’t seem to sit still and got up again. He still looked out of sorts. “I don’t know if I can get used to looking up at you.” He pressed his palms against Steve’s chest. “You do smell different. S’no wonder Biscuit didn’t recognize you.” And then he backed away.

Steve followed him with his eyes. “Buck? I’m still me.”

“I know. I know. I just…not sure how to…or, I dunno.”

Steve looked at his shoes. “I suppose things are different now. I mean…it’s different for you, now. Right? I’m not small anymore.”

“Wha—no, no, I’m happy for you. I seriously am. I just gotta get used to it, I guess. It’s kind of a big change.”

Steve felt lost but he nodded.

Buck left only a few minutes later. Steve wasn’t sure exactly what he was expecting—but this wasn’t it. But then, it was the first day. Let them get used to it.

Bruce appeared later that evening with food from dinner. He didn’t say anything. Bruce was good like that. They sat together and ate, quietly.

 

Afterwards, Bruce helped him transfigure his bed and his table so they would fit him.


End file.
